


Sing A New Song

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [9]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (but it's pretty minor this time), Alpha Ben, Alpha Brian, Alpha Gwilym, Alpha Roger Taylor (Queen), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety Attacks, Beta Joe, Beta John, Bonding, Discrimination, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Omega Freddie Mercury, Omega Rami, Omega Verse, Omegas actually have rights now baby!, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Theo is an angry boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: It's time for the filming of "Bohemian Rhapsody" to begin- and the cast have a lot to learn. As filming begins they learn just how rough the 70s and 80s could be for Omegas, and as they act out the most infamous friendships of all time they form an unbreakable bond of their own.Otherwise known as the BoRhap boys meet the Queen boys, break stereotypes, have no time for toxic Alphas, and are determined to make the best biopic they can.





	1. Rami: Come Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are at last; the BoRhap boys side stories.  
> The Bohemian Rhapsody movie I'm writing about is VERY different to the one we have, for obvious reasons. Other than Live Aid the plot is very different.

**September, London, 2017** **  
** **_“Come alive, come alive. Go and ride your light, let it burn so bright. Reaching up to the sky, and it's open wide, you're electrified.” -Come Alive,_ ** **The Greatest Showman**

 

History lessons had made Rami so desperately glad that he’d been born when he had. Born in 1981, a lot of outdated laws concerning Omegas hadn’t applied to him in his childhood and by his teen years they’d all been abolished.

 

He was entitled to equal pay; if he suspected someone of denying him a job because of his dynamic he was entitled to sue; hitting him, sexually assaulting him, that was all illegal now. He could vote, he could drive, he could take birth control or get an abortion, he could attend college...But that hadn’t always been the case. Those history books had sent shivers down his spine.

 

Maybe that was why this role meant so much to him.

 

He’d arrived in London only yesterday; in two days, after he was “settled in” he’d head to the set and meet his cast mates. He was just glad Joe was one of them.

 

He still couldn’t believe he was here. He was here, in London and he was going to play Freddie Mercury, one of the most famous Omegas in the world, the first singer to refuse to take suppressants. Rami had only a casual knowledge of _Queen_ before the casting call, but now...Now he was overwhelmed. Now he had a face to apply those out-dated laws to. Now, after watching countless interviews, he just couldn’t believe that Freddie had kept going.

  
  
  
  
  


The night before his audition he hadn’t been able to sleep; Sami had come over and they’d stayed up for most of the night, going over interviews and concert footage. Rami tried to absorb it all, Sami pointed out any little details in Freddie’s demeanor he could spot (“He leans forward when he’s annoyed, Rams, see?”) and at first it was nothing he felt he couldn’t handle...Not until they got into the interviews from the 70s. Then the discrimination became horribly, sickening obvious.

 

They found the first 70s interview on YouTube; it wasn’t the whole thing, Rami later learned, and it was titled _“Freddie Mercury ‘I Was Near Tears’ BBC 1976 Interview.”_ A mouthful of a title, but it immediately caught their attention: what could drive the force of nature that was Freddie Mercury to tears?

 

Sexual harassment, that’s what.

 

Rami and his twin had watched as the female interviewer said _“But EMI had some good ideas!”_ and black-and-white photos- _nude_ photos, of the band showed up on screen. Most of them were of Freddie and some of the photos were familiar, but Rami’s eyes zeroed in on Brian May’s snarl; he immediately saw how pale Freddie went, how he quickly rotated from upset, to dead-eyed, to _angry._

 

 _“Actually, I hate that photo,”_ Freddie said, stone cold. _“I hate that whole shoot. I was near tears when that photo was taken.”_

 

The interviewers looked as taken aback as Rami felt; but not for long. As Freddie and Brian explained how that photoshoot came into being the interviewers steadily looked more and more horrified.

 

And Rami? He was struggling to keep his dinner down. Sami swore next to him as Freddie told it all; _“Well, you know we worked under Ray Foster and his boss, Norman Sheffield. One day during a meeting they called John a ‘stupid little boy’ and when I told them to watch it, to not talk to him like that. Sheffield told me to shut up and keep my eyes on the floor like a good little Omega.”_ (Sami snarled.) _“I told him to fuck off and not talk to_ me _like that; I said I was sick of them acting like I was brainless...And three days later they called me into Foster’s office to tell me they’d arranged that photoshoot. They told Mick I’d agreed before they even told me about it.”_

 

“They can’t _do_ that!” Rami cried, as if that would change things; it had happened so long ago. 

 

“They could,” Sami said, despondent. “It was legal.”

 

“They did that just because he talked back.” Rami was horrified and for once he was sure he wasn’t over-reacting. It was the most blatant case of sexual harassment he’d ever heard, and for what? Because Freddie had stood up for himself and John Deacon? 

 

He was suddenly very, very glad that any photoshoot he’d attended so far had only been for his films or shows; the most skin he’d ever shown was on _The Pacific_ during his shirtless scenes- and even then he wasn’t alone, most of the guys had been shirtless. The thought of being shoved naked into a room full of strangers made him feel sick; it made him want to go throw a bigger hoodie on.

 

 _“I went to John Reid, our manager, and persuaded him it would be a good idea to let us join Freddie at the shoot,”_ Brian said; the fire in his eyes gave the lie to his calm tone of voice. _“I persuaded him that it would boost sales with our Beta and Omega fans as well, so he agreed and called Mick.”_

 

 _“Well...That’s good, surely?”_ the female presenter asked timidly.

 

 _“It protected me from the worst of it,”_ Freddie said. _“But that didn’t scare everyone into shutting up or keeping their hands to themselves.”_

 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Sami mumbled.

 

Freddie looked _vicious_ as he told the whole world what had been said and done to him; _“Let’s see...Just before that photo was taken an Alpha assistant pinched my ass...Every time Mick asked us to change poses_ someone _would try and grab me. I heard one assistant dare another to_ ‘check if he’s wet.’ _And that was_ with _Roger there. A...certain someone tried to follow me into the dressing room as well.”_ He let out another mirthless laugh. _“Of bloody_ course _I was terrified! If that was what they pulled with my boyfriend there, what would they have done if I’d been alone?”_

 

The video ended there and Rami was left staring at the screen in shock. Sure, he’d faced problems before; racism and sexism were still rampant, even if Omega discrimination was now illegal...But he’d never had anything like that done to him. When he got annoyed, when he talked back, the worst he’d had was _“Shut up, you stupid Omega,”_ and the occassional _“All Omegas are sluts,”_ comment.

 

He clicked on the next video he saw, only titled _“First Killer Queen interview!!”_ with a few crown emojis at the end.

 

Rami was grinding his teeth nearly right away. Sami was quickly huffing in annoyance.

 

He watched as the interviewer (a tall, handsome blond man with a bright smile), who introduced himself as Jeremy Granger, explained how _Killer Queen_ had quickly climbed the charts and finally brought _Queen_ to the public’s attention once and for all. 

 

 _“So, now let’s have a round of applause for the members of_ Queen! _Brian May on guitar, John Deacon on bass and Roger Taylor on drums with his boyfriend, Freddie Mercury!”_

 

There was applause from the audience, but Rami narrowed his eyes; Sami said what he was thinking, “The idiot didn’t even say Freddie’s the singer!”

 

It seemed Roger agreed with Sami, because he cut off the applause with a sharp, annoyed, _“I think you’re forgetting something- he’s the lead singer.”_

 

Jeremy chuckled indulgently; there were a few similar laughs from the audience, but no one from _Queen_ was laughing. The four of them were crowded together on a red sofa; Brian sat straight and tall, John slouched next to him; Roger lounged casually, an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. The frontman leaned against him, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder. Honestly, if Rami didn’t know they were faking it he’d have cooed.

 

 _“So…_ ‘Killer Queen’s’ _finally getting you the attention you deserve, hm boys? What exactly is the song about?”_ Jeremy asked, looked at Brian.

 

 _“You’d have to ask Freddie,”_ Brian said, folding his arms. _“Seeing as he’s the one who wrote it.”_ There was a brief pause; Rami could feel the tension through the screen, through the decades. 

 

But then Jeremy gave that annoying chuckle again and turned to John.

 

_“I think we can all agree the snapping at the start is a nice touch, am I right? What made you think of that?”_

 

John, still slouching, raised an eyebrow. Rami had never seen anyone convey so much sass through facial expression alone; he was a little jealous.

 

 _“Well, like Bri said, you’ll have to ask Freddie. It was his idea,”_ John said with a lazy shrug. Freddie tilted his head with a sharp little smile; Roger was grinning maniacally at Jeremy’s obvious discomfort.

 

Jeremy coughed, finally uncomfortable, squirming slightly in his seat. The audience was dead silent.

 

 _“Oh come now, boys, be reasonable,”_ he said with a forced smile. _“He can’t have-”_

 

 _“I did,”_ Freddie cut him off. _“Is that a problem, darling?”_

 

_“Well, it’s just- you’re...well..”_

 

_“I’m what?”_

 

_“An Ome-”_

 

Rami closed the page. His jaw was clenched, he was resisting the urge to throw his laptop against the wall.

 

“You okay, man?” Sami asked quietly.

 

“...I’m getting this role,” Rami said, determined, quiet, fierce. “I’m getting this role and I’m going to _kill_ it; I’m going to prove them all wrong too.”

  
  
  
  
  


And he had gotten the role. All that was left now was to kill it.

 

 _Queen_ were acting as music consultants on the film; the idea of meeting them filled him with terror and glee. He already didn’t want to disappoint them.

 

And he wanted to thank Freddie; the frontman had put his foot down and said he’d only agree to the movie if an Omega played him. It had been his one condition, the one thing he refused to budge on.

 

If he could handle _Mr Robot,_ if he could _own_ that role, he was determined to do it here too; he’d own it, he’d kill it and laugh in the face of any old fashioned Alpha that got in his way.

  
  
  
  
  


All the same, he felt nervous when he arrived on set. Bryan Singer made him uncomfortable; the Alpha director had an intimidating aura about him and spoke to his Omega assistant slowly and loudly, like she was particularly dumb. He always raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of Rami, like he’d forgotten why Rami was there.

 

One thing that made everything instantly better was when Joe walked in; their eyes locked, they let out identical excited shrieks and ran to each other. Joe caught him, lifted him right up and spun him around, laughing.

 

“Fuck, did you get shorter?” he laughed.

 

“Fuck off, Mazzello!”

 

As luck would have it, that was when Gwilym Lee and Ben Hardy arrived. For a moment, Rami expected teasing. He expected raised eyebrows and laughs.

 

Instead, Ben clapped a hand over his heart and said, “Oh, what, there’s cuddles going on and I’m _not_ invited? I’m heartbroken.”

 

“Down boy,” Gwilym said with a smirk. He held a hand out. “I’m Gwil.”

 

“Joe,” said Joe with a bright grin. He lifted Rami higher. “This literal pixie is Rami.”

 

“You can put me down now,” Rami said.

 

“Hm, no, I really can’t,” Joe said, shaking his head. If anything his grip tightened.

 

“Joey.”

 

“Rams.”

 

“Benny,” Ben cut in with a grin. He looked around at them all and let out an amused huff. “This is nuts, huh?”

 

“Completely insane,” Gwil agreed. “My manager mentioned Brian and Roger will be popping in today and all.”

 

“Oh _fuck,_ ” came the automatic response from Ben, Joe and Rami. There was a moment’s pause before they all burst out laughing.

 

So. He was in London, thousands of miles away from home; he was playing Freddie Mercury. He was more nervous than he cared to admit.

  
But as Joe set him down, as Ben showed off pictures on his phone, as Gwil tattled on Ben for _not_ knowing how to play the drums, Rami felt certain it would all work out.


	2. Roger: Castle On The Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Ben have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I write about the Queen boys in this 'verse I've based them off the BoRhap boys in terms of appearance, hence why Roger is so taken aback by how much they all look alike.

**2017** **  
** **_“I'm on my way. Driving at ninety down those country lanes, singing to "Tiny Dancer,” and I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real. We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill.” -Castle On The Hill,_ ** **Ed Sheeran**

 

Meeting the cast had been bizarre. It was like looking in a mirror. Roger could admit he hadn’t actually looked up what these boys looked like, he’d been more interested in their acting.

 

But evidently these kids were  _ clones  _ of him and his friends.

 

Ben was the spitting image of him; broader with shorter hair, hair that wasn’t quite as fluffy and ruffled as Roger’s, but other than that the resemblance was shocking. Joe’s hair was red, rather than brown like Deacy’s and his eyes were hazel, not grey-green, but he had the same earnest smile, the same excited way of bobbing in place. Gwil had short, straight hair, light brown and easily tamed; his eyes were blue. But other than that, he had Brian’s facial structure almost exactly, the same low calm voice, they were even the same height. And then there was Rami; as far as Roger could see, the only difference between Rami and Freddie, other than their teeth, were their eyes: Freddie had big brown eyes whereas Rami had big dark sea-green ones. A second glance showed him that Rami was tiny, even skinnier than Freddie had been in the 70s. He seemed quieter, even shyer than Freddie.

 

And like Freddie, the kid won over everyone he met in seconds; one smile, one giggle, one conversation was all it took.

 

But right now, Roger’s main concern was this: filming began in earnest in two weeks. Right now the boys just had rehearsals (unfilmed), script readings and costume fittings. They were encouraged to hang out together, to get to know each other properly. It was the first thing Roger actually agreed with Singer on: if these boys were going to be portraying him and his boys, his pack, they needed to be friends themselves.

 

And they were starting with Live Aid.

 

On one hand, Roger got it; Live Aid would take up the most time from set-up alone. They were still building the set. It was still considered the best performance of  _ Queen’s  _ career: there could be no room for mistakes.

 

On the other hand it felt like they were throwing the poor boys head first into the deep end without teaching them how to swim.

 

Live Aid. They’d been together for  _ years  _ by then. These boys had only known each other for a week. How could they convince an audience that they had fifteen years worth of friendship and experience?

 

So he drew Ben aside.

 

“So, Live Aid, huh?” Roger said with a grin. “You nervous?”

 

“Bricking it,” Ben admitted with a laugh. That was another thing; he seemed so much calmer, less defensive, than Roger had ever been.

 

“I was too,” Roger said. “We all were. But we were also damn sure we could get through it together.” He sat back, folding his arms. “We knew each other for fifteen years by then. You’ve known each other a week now...You get along okay, yeah? You like each other?”

 

“They’re great,” Ben said.

 

Roger nodded. “They seem it, yeah. Listen, I like you guys. You seem to actually care about this movie, where a lot of other people would have just seen this as a cash grab, a chance to show off or brag. So I want to help you guys out if I can.”

 

Ben looked faintly surprised, but he smiled. “Thank you.”

 

“First things first; me and Fred. You and Rami will have a  _ lot  _ of scenes together. I know they’re billing this as if it’s just about Freddie, but we’ve all read the script, they’re putting a lot of focus on the shit we got up to. So. You’re going to have to convince people you’d kill for that guy. You’ve known each other a week...I knew Freddie for a week when I found out he was utterly on his own in England.”

 

Ben sat up straighter, eyes sharpening. “What do you mean?”

 

“You already know he’d run away...And in all that time he was on his own. Sure, he had friends, but he kept most people at arm’s length. He didn’t trust anyone. He was scared. He lived alone and let me tell you, back then it was practically unheard of for an Omega to live alone.”

 

Thank God, Ben was paying attention. His eyes had narrowed, he nodded along as Roger spoke.

 

He was getting that determined glint in his eyes that Roger had.

 

“So, imagine you first see your new friend’s flat, and it’s tiny and dark and the heater doesn’t work half the time. It’s September in London, it’s getting cold. Immediately, you’re worried about him. You ask about his roommate...And he tells you he doesn’t have one. So Brian- or Gwil, in this case- asks if your new friend’s parents couldn’t help with the bills; it seems pretty shitty that he has to work two jobs and balance classes too. And this new friend of yours, who’s been nothing but sweet and kind, tells you he doesn’t have a family any more.”

 

Ben’s face crumpled, before his eyes flashed again. “I’d want to look after him,” he admitted quietly.

 

“Atta boy,” Roger said with satisfaction. “Freddie means the world to me. You’re going to have to convince people- heck, I want you to convince  _ me,  _ that Rami means the world to you. And I mean it- I’m here to help. If you have any questions, I’ll answer them.”

 

“...Were things really that bad back then?” Ben asked, with some hesitation. “I mean, I read the script...Did EMI’s contract really say…?”

 

“That any single Omega would basically become some Alpha’s sex toy in exchange for getting signed? Yeah.”

 

Ben  _ growled.  _

 

“When I suggested we fake a relationship, I only had Prenter in mind.” And oh, didn’t the mention of that name still make his blood boil? “I just wanted him to fuck off and leave Fred alone. I had no idea the kind of people we’d be going up against. When I read that contract I swore to myself again, that I’d never let them hurt him. He’s  _ mine.  _ Understand?”

 

Ben looked away, across the room; Rami was wrestling with Joe over a bag of jellybeans while Gwil shouted encouragement. 

 

“Yeah,” Ben said. “I understand.”

 

Roger didn’t doubt it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Afterwards he found Brian, just as he ended a phone call.

 

“That was Freddie,” he began, only for Roger to cut him off with a frantic, “Is he okay?”

 

“For God’s sake, Rog,” Brian laughed. “He has a head cold, he’s not dying! He just wanted to know how things were getting on here.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Roger grumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at their actors and smiled; they were all crowded around, laughing at something on Joe’s phone. Ben had an arm around Rami’s narrow shoulders and Rami leaned into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Been chatting to Ben,” he told Brian. “I figured...Well, who better to coach him about me than  _ me,  _ right?”

 

Brian hummed thoughtfully. “Good idea,” he said. “If they’re starting with Live Aid…”

 

“Then they need to act like they’ve been friends for years,” Roger finished. “Might be a good idea if we all coach them. If they’re up for it anyway.”

 

“Well, Deacy’ll arrive tomorrow,” Brian said. “I’m sure he’ll be up for it, and Joe seems sweet, he’s already asking a million questions. As for Freddie…”

 

“He’s Freddie,” they laughed together. When Freddie eventually felt up to visiting the set they didn’t doubt he’d immediately start telling people what they were doing wrong.

 

And Roger didn’t doubt he’d  _ dote  _ on the cast as well. 

 

One more glance showed him that the boys were still engrossed in their own little world; whatever video Joe was playing had Gwil jumping off the sofa with a shout of “I’m sick of that vine!” (Whatever vine meant)

 

Yeah, they already seemed to be grasping it.

 

So Roger turned back to Brian with a grin. “Right, now let’s go nag Singer about getting off his arse, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coaching begins...


	3. Brian and Gwil: Friends Will Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brian and Gwil discuss stereotypes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiples points of view? You bet your ass.

**2017** **  
** **_“It's so easy now, 'cause you got friends you can trust. Friends will be friends. When you're in need of love they give you care and attention. Friends will be friends. When you're through with life and all hope is lost, hold out your hand 'cause friends will be friends; right till the end.” -Friends Will Be Friends,_ ** **Queen**

 

Brian figured that Roger was onto something. After all, interviews and old concert footage could only teach the boys so much. Who better to coach them about  _ Queen  _ than  _ Queen  _ themselves? Ben and Roger’s chat seemed to have gone well; Ben was certainly giving it his all.

 

Brian stood to the side, watching as the boys rehearsed. They were waiting to be called to the costume department for Live Aid; in the meantime they’d decided to run through some other scenes amongst themselves. Right now, they were going over Brian, Roger and Freddie’s first meeting with Deacy. They were good and only getting better with each go; heck, Ben even had Roger’s protective stance down to pat. 

 

Well, no harm in talking to Gwil, right?

 

“Alright boys, costumes!” came the call.

 

“They’re good,” Roger said.

 

“They are,” Brian agreed. And they  _ were-  _ but still. No harm in seeing if Gwil had any questions.

  
  
  
  
  
  


If meeting Gwil had been odd before it felt like a trip now. Gwil was in full Live Aid costume, wig and all. It was a blast from the past. For a moment Brian had to do a double take, totally taken aback.

 

Christ, it was downright creepy how much they looked alike.

 

He couldn’t help himself: he straightened the wig. To be fair to Gwil, he took it in stride.

 

“Listen,” Brian said. “Rog and I were thinking...If you boys have any questions for us, or if you just want to talk about some of your scenes, well...We’re here to help, okay?”

 

“Really?” Gwil’s eyes lit up.

 

“Really,” Brian grinned.

 

“Oh, wow. Um, well how about when- or- no, wait, that’s not until later so…” Gwil smiled sheepishly. “I don’t really know where to start.”

 

“Well, you’ve only five minutes until you’ve to start rehearsal,” Brian said. “So give it a think, yeah?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The set still wasn’t finished, not entirely, but it was insane so utterly insane, to see Wembley slowly but surely being brought back to life. Every day it was looking more and more like the stadium Brian had known. The boys certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves; every time the camera stopped they were jumping about together, doing silly impromptu dances or taking photos of each other. As Joe himself had stated: “It’s obnoxious how much we like each other.”

 

Well, God knew  _ Queen  _ had been accused of being obnoxious over the years and God knew they had no concept of personal space. Really, the boys were on the right track.

 

And as lunch was called, Gwil approached Brian.

 

“So, does the offer to talk still stand?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” Brian said with a smile. “Fire away.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Gwil felt stupidly nervous. It was stupid, because it was  _ Brian’s  _ offer and Brian was so  _ nice.  _ But it was still  _ Brian May,  _ the musical genius, the rock legend himself. He figured anyone would be nervous.

 

Really, he appreciated the offer. He  _ did  _ have questions. These days, not many people commented on Gwil’s mannerisms, or his lack of a temper, but back in Brian’s day any quiet Alpha was deemed weak; they were sneered at, considered to not be “real” Alphas. There were a few scenes where they’d have to deal with hecklers, with hate comments, not to mention the _"I Want To Break Free"_ scandal; so yes, Gwil had questions. How had Brian dealt with it, for a start? And were there ever any times where Brian  _ did  _ fly off the handle, not just after  _"I Want To Break Free"_?

 

“I usually left the yelling to Roger,” Brian said with a fond grin. “It was his forte. Honestly, I feel like even if I  _ was  _ as temperamental as him I still wouldn’t get the chance to yell or fight- he’d beat me to it. He was- still is actually- what we were taught an Alpha should be. He’s fierce, protective, possessive, confident,  _ loud... _ Next to him I didn’t measure up to much.”

 

“People thought you were weird for not being an areshole, basically,” Gwil said.

 

“Basically,” Brian nodded.

 

It struck Gwil as complete horseshit. Being kind was a  _ good  _ thing. He couldn’t imagine being laughed at, being sneered at, for  _ not  _ being awful.

 

“...There was a lot going on back then, huh?” Gwil asked and Brian nodded again. “You guys...You really broke a lot of stereotypes.”

 

“We did,” Brian said proudly. “Sure, Roger may  _ seem  _ like a typical Alpha, but he’d never dream of beating an Omega into submission. He was considered an oddball for treating Omegas like equals- we all were. The fact that we had an Omega frontman was unheard of. The fact that we let him take credit for his own songs was even considered ridiculous. People always tried to pressure Freddie into letting myself or Roger, or even John sometimes, take credit for his work.”

 

“That’s awful!”

 

“It was. You have to understand just how different things were back then, Gwil. People didn’t see Freddie as a person, just the same as them; they saw him as a walking sex toy. They couldn’t believe he was clever. Freddie just being himself was a threat to the status quo. Roger got off easy most of the time, until he bluntly stuck up for Omegas in interviews: not just Freddie, but  _ all  _ Omegas. Then he was considered a radical, off his rocker...The things people wrote about us were hurtful, I’ll admit. They said Deacy was second-best, that he wasn’t much, that as a Beta he must  _ surely  _ be dull. They mistook his quietness for dullness and wouldn’t budge...Until they realised he wanted Omegas to have equal rights; then they accused him of inciting trouble. They said I wasn’t a real Alpha because I wasn’t starting fights with the press, or off having sex with five Omegas every night. The fact that I was content to let others do the talking for me was seen as a weakness. Back then, Alphas really did rule all.”

 

Gwil wasn’t sure what to say to that. He swallowed nervously. What must it have been like, he wondered, to live in a world so  _ skewed?  _ To have such an obvious gap in people’s rights? He’d been raised to respect Omegas; the idea that they were toys was outdated...But he still knew a few people that thought that way. His mind flashed to Bryan Singer; how he talked down to his assistant, how he spoke over Rami, how he acted like every Omega on set was either stupid or in his way. He imagined most of the planet acting like that and felt sick; a shudder ran through him.

 

“Um...The 1973 photoshoot,” he started. “Making it a group thing was your idea, I know the script got that right and I found a few interview clips, but…” He found the script in his bag, flipped through it and handed it to Brian. “Is that all accurate?” he asked, dreading the answer.

 

Brian read through it; his expression had gone totally blank, but there was an ice cold aura radiating off him. Finally, he sighed, closing the script.

 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how I remember it,” he said. Suddenly, he looked his age, drooping and tired.

 

“I don’t want to film it,” Gwil admitted. “I know it’s important, but- but I don’t know if I can just stand there, you know? What if I freak out? What if Rami freaks out? I- Christ, there’s going to be so many  _ people. _ ”

 

“You can do it,” Brian said. “Think of it this way; if anyone’s genuinely upset they’ll yell cut.” He sighed again. “We didn’t have that.” He smiled again. “But if you can pull off Live Aid, I’ve no doubt you can handle the rest. They’re starting you on the hardest part; after that, you can do anything.”

 

But suddenly, Live Aid didn’t feel like the hardest part. They had scenes with Ray Foster, with Paul Prenter, with dozens of hecklers and haters; Live Aid had been a triumph. There’d been a lot of trouble to get there.

 

But Brian was right, Gwil reminded himself. If anyone was genuinely upset they’d call cut.

  
  
  
  
  
  


At the end of the day, Gwil and the boys decided to head to the nearest pub; they were still giddy, riding high on how well rehearsal had gone.

 

“I still can’t believe we’re starting on Live Aid,” Rami said. “They seem to enjoy scaring us.” He smirked at Ben. “You know we can’t mime all the time, have you admitted you can’t actually drum yet?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben said primly, nose in the air.

 

Grinning, Gwil clapped Joe on the shoulder. “So, John Deacon’s coming to set tomorrow,” he said. “You know what you’re gonna ask him?”

 

“All the questions,” Joe said. He chuckled nervously. “I hope he likes me.”

 

“He’d be insane not to,” Rami said, pointing one of his chips at Joe. Ben nodded, lightly elbowing Joe’s arm, smiling.

 

“You’ll be fine, mate.”

 

“Fuck, I hope so,” Joe said, running his hands through his hair.

 

Gwil took a sip of beer, smiled at Joe again. His talk with Brian came back to him and a sudden surge of confidence ran through him.

 

“I know so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacy will be here next time, I promise!


	4. John: The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives on set; the cast impress him. Bryan Singer does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacy's here lads! Freddie will be here next chapter (along with Jim, Maeve and Carrie!)

**_“Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play, 'cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride to the other side. So if you do like I do. (So if you do like me) Forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key. Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly! We're going to the other side.” -The Other Side,_ ** **The Greatest Showman**

 

The Live Aid set was pretty much complete and the sight took John’s breath away. The backstage was perfect and the sight of so many extras in costume felt like a blast from the past. For a moment he could have sworn it was 1985 again.

 

But no, he had to remember it was 2017 and Bryan Singer’s anxious assistant was showing him around. Singer himself was late, and John just wanted to find his friends, to meet the boys that would be playing them.

 

He found them all huddled together on the wings to the “stage”; Brian and Roger sat on those uncomfortable fold out chairs; Ben Hardy sat cross-legged on the ground, Rami Malek sat on top of a speaker with Joe Mazzello next to him (looking at Rami, John didn’t doubt that Joe had to help him up there) and Gwilym Lee sat against the wall, balancing his script on his knees.

 

“I’m definitely looking forward to the BBC scenes,” Ben said with a grin.

 

Instantly, Roger groaned, “Oh the fucking BBC.” Brian nodded in agreement with Roger.

 

“Miming’s a pain,” he said.

 

“Perfect performance though,” John teased. He had to hold back laughter at the cast’s reactions to him; there’d been gasps and awed stares galore as he made his way around the set, but Joe nearly fell off the speaker; Rami had to grab him. Gwilym was unabashedly gawping and Ben swore loudly.

 

“Hey, Deacy,” Roger said cheerfully.

 

John nodded at them, turning back to the cast. “Well you weren’t exaggerating, Brimi,” he said. “It really is like looking in a mirror.” Joe squeaked; John smiled at him. “Brian and Roger said they’ve been answering any questions you boys have,” John continued. “Well, I’m here to help too. Fire away.”

 

Joe squeaked again.

  
  
  
  
  


As they waited for Singer to arrive they all sat chatting; another assistant found John a chair, which he gratefully took. Much as he may hate it, he wasn’t young anymore and his back was already aching.

 

“So, um...Was it hard being the only Beta?” Joe asked quietly and John couldn’t help but smile at him; the poor thing looked like he was dying of nerves.

 

“You don’t need to look so nervous, Joe,” he said. “I don’t bite. And to answer your question...Most of the time it was okay. There were no big expectations on Betas back in my day...But that was also part of the problem. The press liked to act like I was terribly dull and boring without actually _talking_ to me. Some people found it hard to believe a Beta could have good ideas too. I never had it as bad as Omegas- nothing affected my rights- but people sure liked to talk over me.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “Been there.”

 

There was a brief pause as John mulled it all over. These kids seemed so damn _sweet._ They seemed to sincerely want what was best for this film. And if John was honest he’d had his reservations; when the film was first pitched to them, Fox wanted it to basically be a porno, where Freddie got pounded again and again. Despite their tell-all in the 90s, they had more than one sex scene between Freddie and Roger. It had been a battle to _not_ tear that script into little pieces and send it back. But they’d refused, again and again; after the porno idea they wanted a movie that ignored all Omega discrimination, then one that practically glorified it. (Roger _did_ tear that script up). Then there was one that made Prenter seem like a victim. Freddie nearly burned that one, and Brian told the Fox executives to leave them alone. For a while, all talk of a movie stopped.

 

Finally, they were presented with a script they agreed with; one that stuck reasonably close to the truth. Of course, not everything could be covered, but John was happy enough (he was especially happy that Norman Sheffield was only mentioned and wouldn’t appear on screen- he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep calm otherwise) and he liked that the film would end on a high note at Live Aid. Finally satisfied, _Queen_ agreed to _Bohemian Rhapsody._ Apparently people at Fox were already murmuring about a possible sequel if this went well.

 

Yes, he’d had his reservations, but they finally had a script they could agree on and these boys seemed so earnest; they seemed to genuinely want _Queen’s_ approval.

 

“So, what’s it like being a Beta in the film industry?” John asked. He was genuinely curious. “You and Rami worked together before, right?”

 

“We have,” Joe said with a smile. “We were on _The Pacific_ together. It was pretty heavy stuff, but having a friend around helped a tonne. And...You know, most people are okay, I’ve never had someone imply I’m not good enough because I’m a Beta, but people still definitely prefer Alphas, you know what I mean? Like, if you look at the statistics…”

 

“Most big name actors are still Alphas,” John finished softly. Joe nodded, sighing.

 

“Some people are desperate to cling to the way things were,” John said. “But it was awful back then. Nothing was done to _me_ personally, but it’s so _so_ hard to see one of your best friends and your wife be treated like _objects._ I love my Ronnie more than anything and I couldn’t protect her as much as I wanted to. I couldn’t change the law. And Fred- God, I didn’t even _think_ about Omega discrimination until I met him. One night we all went to our favourite club and this strange Alpha just...Just slapped his ass. When Freddie told him to fuck off, the guy grabbed him and I couldn’t even _do_ anything. He just shoved me away when I tried. He wouldn’t let go until Roger arrived...”

 

Joe was looking at him steadily; for a moment John wanted to apologise for rambling, but Joe seemed _interested._ His expression was completely serious and John found himself continuing.

 

“A lot of the time, we’d meet Alphas that told Ronnie she didn’t need to _settle_ for a Beta. They’d tell her she could do better with _them,_ that a pretty thing like her deserved a _real_ partner. The entitlement back then was...It was just _insane,_ Joe, truly. When Joshua presented as an Omega I was so worried for him- even when Cameron presented I was scared. The law is better now, but...Well, people are people. You never know what mindset they’ve been raised with, what their view of the world is. You never know if they think things were better back in the _‘old days.’_ It was all so out of balance, it was all so unfair...And yet I know I had it easy. Betas were considered second-best and I knew a lot of Betas who were content to hide their heads in the sand; if the laws weren’t affecting _them_ they didn’t want to know. It was safer to ignore the world’s problems.”

 

“But you didn’t,” Joe said with such admiration that John could feel himself flushing.

 

“But I didn’t,” he agreed.

 

“They don’t give you enough credit,” Joe said. “The press, heck even a lot of the fans...They really don’t give you enough credit. You tried when a lot of people couldn’t be bothered.”

 

“You can’t stand around your whole life hoping someone else will fix things,” John told him. “Sometimes you have to speak out yourself. If not _for_ yourself then for your friends and family.”

 

“My dad’s an Omega,” Joe said; he suddenly looked smaller, much sadder. “He won’t talk about growing up that much. He says the past is in the past and we don’t need to worry about it, but…” His eyes flicked to Rami. “But bad things still happen. And if we ignore what happened before it could happen again.”

 

“Astute,” John said approvingly. Joe smiled shyly.

 

The happy moment was interrupted by Singer’s arrival.

 

“What are you all doing sitting around?” he demanded. He glared at Rami. “Malek, get down off the equipment before you break it.”

 

“We were waiting for _you,_ ” Gwil snapped; Ben glared defiantly. Brian, frowning at Singer, moved to help Rami down off the speaker. Roger looked decidedly unimpressed and John suddenly understood the complaints from his friends; how in the world were they supposed to work _without_ the director?

 

“You could have started without me,” Singer said, waving a hand dismissively.

 

“No we couldn’t,” Joe suddenly said. He looked surprised at himself, but at John’s encouraging nod, he continued. “We had no idea where you wanted us to start, neither did the crew! You didn’t tell us yesterday, you just said we’d run through Live Aid again.”

 

For a moment Singer looked startled, but then he was right back to frowning. “Just get in place, we’ll take it from the top.” He nodded to John. “Nice to see you, Deacon,” he said and walked away, yelling for his assistant.

 

“He’s such an ass,” Ben grumbled.

 

“I see what you mean, Bri, Rog,” John sighed. Joe was glaring after Singer and John clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, come on, mini-me; show time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I respect John Deacon's privacy and his choice to retire.  
> Also Me: ...Fuck, I miss John Deacon.  
> (You know the feel, right?)


	5. Rami and Freddie: Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie arrives on set, but it's not all going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we briefly cover Rami's fainting spell; Bryan Singer is a jerk.  
> If anyone wants to yell at me about Queen, or if you have questions about this 'verse I'm on tumblr: paladinmoony

**_“You didn't think that I'd come back, I'd come back swinging. You try to break me but you see what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller. Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone. What doesn't kill you makes a fighter.” -Stronger,_ ** **Kelly Clarkson**

 

Rami felt awful. No matter what they did it seemed like there was no pleasing Singer. He wanted to go over Live Aid _again._ It was slowing them down. Theoretically they should have been moving onto some of the scenes from the 70s, but Singer insisted they were messing up on Live Aid. The rest of the crew couldn’t see a problem, even the assistant director and the producers thought it was perfect, but Singer dragged his heels.

 

He also called Rami onto the set stupidly early; it was barely six o’clock when Singer called him and demanded Rami attend a meeting.

 

It wasn’t a meeting so much as a lecture. Singer spent the whole time berating Rami, insisting his performance was lackluster.

 

“You need to give it more _oomph,_ ” he insisted. “This is the biggest performance in history, you’re portraying one of the most famous Omegas in history. You should be grateful for this role, not throwing it away!”

 

“I’m not throwing it away,” Rami insisted. “I-”

 

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Singer snapped. “Just put some more effort in before I talk about this casting choice.” He shook his head, muttering to himself; Rami just about heard him mutter “Damn Omegas.” He sighed, straightening up. “Well, you may as well go get ready, Malek.” And then, to Rami’s shock, as Singer pushed past him he patted Rami none too gently on the hip. “At least _try_ and look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he added, before he was gone. 

 

Singer’s long-suffering assistant shot Rami an apologetic smile before she followed her boss.

 

And Rami was just...completely stupefied. Had Singer seriously just touched him? Was he seriously saying the Live Aid scenes weren’t good enough because of _him?_ Rami was giving it his all, he didn’t see what else he could do.

 

Sighing, he went in search of breakfast, only for the hair and make-up department to waylay him.

 

“Singer said to get you ready,” one make-up artist said and Rami resigned himself to their attention. He could always get breakfast later.

  
  
  
  


There wasn’t much time for _proper_ breakfast. He had to make do with a cereal bar and some fruit in between costume changes. Whenever he crossed paths with Singer, Singer either glared or berated him, briskly telling him to buck up.

 

The other boys noticed how down he seemed. He didn’t answer Brian’s concerned questions (what if he was overreacting?) but when Joe cornered him in their golden Live Aid trailer, Rami confessed it all.

 

“Rams, you look totally drained,” Joe said. “What’s up? Bad night’s sleep?”

 

“Something like that,” Rami sighed. “...Joe, do you think I’m doing a bad job?”

 

“ _What?_ Don’t be an idiot, Rami, you’re doing brilliantly!” His eyes narrowed. “Why, who’s been telling you otherwise?”

 

“Singer,” Rami admitted. “He said I need to give it more _oomph,_ whatever that means. Said I’m lackluster, not doing a good enough job...He said I’m slowing us all down.” He bit his lip. “He even said he’d be _talking_ about the choice to cast me if I don’t _perk up._ ”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Joe snarled; he looked so ferocious that for a moment, Rami was taken aback. He’d never seen Joe look so angry; he was usually so _happy._ “Rami, you’re doing a fantastic job! For God’s sake, even Brian, Roger and John are impressed and I don’t doubt Freddie will love you when he arrives.”

 

That caught his attention. “Wait, is he coming here? Like, _today?_ ”

 

“That’s what John told me,” Joe said. “He’s feeling all better, so he should be here today.”

 

Oh God. That didn’t help at all. He was desperate to meet Freddie, but he was also terrified. What if Freddie didn’t like him? What if _Freddie_ thought he was doing a bad job? What if Freddie wanted him recast? He was suddenly terrified of fucking up. Singer could sneer all he wanted, but if he disappointed Freddie Mercury he might actually die.

 

“Everything okay in here?” Gwil poked his head into the trailer, Ben right behind him. “Rami? You look really pale…”

 

“Not feeling very well,” Rami said with a weak smile.

 

“Singer’s being an asshole,” Joe said. 

 

“What do you mean?” Gwil and Ben squeezed into the trailer, shutting the door behind them. Joe told them everything, ignoring Rami’s protests.

 

“What do you _mean_ he put his hands on you!?” Gwil demanded, teeth bared in a snarl. Ben had gone red, fists clenched.

 

“It wasn’t that bad, he just patted me on the hip!” Rami protested. “That’s nothing!”

 

“He has no right to touch you,” Ben said firmly, practically spitting. 

 

Joe clearly wasn’t happy either, but he ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Okay...We can’t perform like this,” he said. “We all need to calm down.”

 

“Cuddle pile?” Ben suggested. When the others looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. “What? It works for _Queen._ ”

 

Well, it was an idea.

 

All in costume, they squeezed together on the floor, surrounded by every pillow they could find in the trailer. Joe hugged Rami tightly to his chest; Gwil hugged him from behind while Ben spooned Joe.

 

“...Fuck, this actually works,” Gwil laughed.

 

It did. He’d never really cuddled with anyone other than Sami; it was new, but he liked it. It felt weirdly safe.

 

Of course, that was when someone knocked on the door. Of course, _of course,_ that was when Maeve Hutton and her wife walked in.

  
  
  
  


Well, this promised to be an insane day. Maeve and her wife, Carrie, were here. Singer was pissed at him. His friends were pissed at Singer and Rami just barely managed to convince Gwil to _not_ tell Brian. And, on top of it all, Freddie was coming to the set with Jim.

 

“If he hugs me I’m going to cry,” Rami said yet again. He felt lightheaded.

 

“Same here,” Joe said cheerfully.

 

There was no mistaking when Freddie arrived; the normally bustling set fell silent. You could have sworn a member of the royal family arrived as the crowd parted before him. Awe radiated from the crew; a few extras gasped and were quickly hushed by their friends. It was like a spell had been cast; no one dared speak up.

 

Rami peered around Joe and finally clapped eyes on Freddie Mercury. He’d seen recent pictures of the man and video clips, but it didn’t compare to actually seeing him in person.

 

He was a small man, still quite thin. Years ago he and Rami had been the same height, but age had shrunk him by a few inches. All the same, he carried himself with a kind of confident grace that Rami envied. His arm was linked with his husband’s; his hair was salt-and-pepper, neatly styled. He grinned as he looked around curiously, showing off those infamous teeth. One thing that hadn’t changed was his eyes; they were still luminous, big and brown and radiating joy.

 

Part of Rami wanted to run over and shake his hand, but he just didn’t dare move.

 

He was snapped out of his trance when Gwil hissed, “Oh my _God,_ Joe!”

 

“I’m just saying, they’re all the type of old men where you look at them and think, _Yeah, I bet you were hot back in the day,_ ” Joe huffed, crossing his arms.

 

“He’s not wrong,” Ben said.

 

They instantly shut up when Freddie spotted them. He stopped dead, staring at them. Gwil offered an awkward wave. 

 

Freddie burst out laughing; he slipped free of Jim and hurried over to hug them all, as casually as if they’d known each other for ages. Rami, on autopilot, returned the hug. _Holy shit,_ he thought. _Holy shit, he’s here, he’s here and he’s hugging me, HOLY SHIT!_

 

Freddie stood back, looking them all over again. “My goodness, look at you all!” he laughed. “You look just like us!” He looked at Rami and his smile only grew, though his eyes softened. “Oh, aren’t you just _precious?_ ” he cooed, hugging him again. If he noticed that Rami was having an internal meltdown he gave no indication.

 

“Tone it down, Papa,” Maeve laughed.

 

“Oh hush, darling,” Freddie said. He actually stuck his tongue out at her. It was such a silly little thing, but somehow it helped Rami find his voice.

 

“Thank you,” he blurted out. Freddie was still hugging him. “For...For insisting an Omega had to play you and for agreeing to be a consultant on the movie...And for, you know, all those statements you made over the years. About Omegas being treated equally. I mean, I love your music obviously, but all that stuff you did was so amazing and it’s so great to have another immigrant to look up to, I-” He coughed awkwardly, trailing off. “My parents are from Egypt,” he finished shyly.

 

To his shock, Freddie was positively _beaming_ at him.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you, darling,” he said.

 

“I…” Rami blinked at him in surprise. Slowly, he grinned. “Yeah, you too.”

  
  
  
  


Well, Roger hadn’t exaggerated; Rami was _adorable._ All the boys seemed lovely and it was clear the four of them already adored each other.

 

And Singer was an arse. That too.

 

Singer had shaken Jim’s hand with a smile, but he shook Freddie’s, Maeve’s and Carrie’s hands with obvious reluctance. Whenever he explained how things were going he looked to Brian and Roger. It was the type of bullshit Freddie hadn’t seen in years. It was jarring. It was fucking _annoying_ too. It was 2017, surely they didn’t need to put up with this bullshit anymore?

 

Apparently Singer didn’t get the memo.

 

It was the third time he called for the boys to take it from the top today, and Freddie was close to yelling at him. Their actors were all clearly exhausted; Rami was leaning against Joe, looking awfully pale.

 

That did it.

 

“Listen dear, they all look tired. Maybe let them take a breather?” he suggested with a beseeching smile. But Singer only rolled his eyes.

 

“They can rest when they get it right,” he said firmly.

 

“You know, speaking as someone who was _at_ Live Aid- _they’re getting it right,_ ” Roger snapped, but Singer still wouldn’t listen.

 

“From the top!” he ordered and everyone scrambled into place.

 

Which of course, was when everything went wrong.

 

As the boys launched into _Radio Gaga,_ Rami suddenly stumbled. He swayed on the spot, dropping the mic as he clutched his head. Just as Joe ran to him, he collapsed in a dead faint.

 

“RAMI!” came the simultaneous scream from Joe, Gwil and Ben. Deacy let out a sharp, horrified gasp; Carrie screamed. Freddie elbowed past them all, slipping out of Jim’s arms as he ran to the collapsed actor.

 

“Give him some air,” he demanded. Obediently, the crew members backed away; his family and pack hovered behind him. Joe had Rami’s head in his lap; the Beta was in tears. 

 

“This is all Singer’s fault,” Ben hissed viciously as the medics arrived. Rami’s eyes were already starting to flutter open.

 

“What happened?” he mumbled, trying to push himself up.

 

“You fainted, darling,” Freddie said. Gwil gently lay Rami back down. 

 

“Fuck,” Rami mumbled, closing his eyes again. “That’s embarrassing.”

 

“Embarrassing!?” Joe squawked. “You could have been seriously hurt!”

 

“He’s right,” Freddie said, squeezing Rami’s hand. The medics set to work, checking him over. Freddie was just glad he didn’t seem to have hit his head.

 

The only one who hung back was Bryan Singer; when Freddie glanced at him, the Alpha stood to the side, arms folded, glaring.

  
  
  
  


The medics proclaimed that Rami was dehydrated, exhausted and needed some proper food. Ben lifted him straight up and carried him backstage.

 

“First things first, I’m getting you some tea,” Deacy said, pushing Ramis’s hair off his face. Rami offered a weak smile and Deacy hurried away.

 

“Christ, I was sure he’d knocked himself out good and proper,” Jim muttered tiredly. His face was creased in concern. Freddie squeezed his hand; smiling, Jim squeezed back.

 

His mind went back to what Ben had said; _“This is all Singer’s fault.”_ Somehow, Freddie didn’t doubt it.

 

Sighing, he sat next to Rami, wrapping a blanket around the younger Omega.

 

“Are you okay, darling?” he asked.

 

“Embarrassed,” Rami said. “I wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t think _that_ would happen.”

 

“No need to be embarrassed,” Freddie said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Trust me honey, I’ve fallen right off the stage before; we’re all just glad you’re okay.”

 

He could see Roger and Singer arguing in a corner and he turned Rami slightly, angling him away. The poor thing didn’t need to see that.

  
However, as soon as he was sure Rami was okay, he’d be taking Singer to task. He liked these kids and he wasn’t about to let _anyone_ endanger their health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's Mama Bear Mode: activate!


	6. Gwil and Freddie: Sorry About Your Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys move on in filming. The band's first meeting with Ray Foster is hard for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I just needed a breather to sort myself out; now that the cuddle pile snippets are done I can properly focus on this for a while and work on Jim vs Paul.
> 
> ALSO- I finally saw Rocketman yesterday and oh my god, lads. I was in tears at the end. It was amazing, go see it while you can ❤

**_“If you're obsessed with your yesterday then you're destined to repeat it. And I know it's not your fault, it never is, is it, is it, is it? I know what it's like staying up all night nursing wounds. It takes more than I have, pick fights with the past, I always lose. Oh, don't you know that's no way to live? I know what it's like staying up all night nursing wounds.” -Sorry About Your Parents,_ ** **Icon For Hire**

 

They’d finally moved on from Live Aid and now they were moving onto some scenes from the 1970s. First things first, the band’s initial meeting with Ray Foster.

 

Poor Mike looked so awkward in his Ray Foster gear.

 

“You look like a pervert,” Ben laughed. They were all crowded together in the dressing room, laughing at each other's costumes. The 70s certainly were a flamboyant time, if you asked Gwil.

 

“I fucking  _ feel  _ like one in this get up,” Mike said, eyeing himself dubiously in the mirror.

 

“Same,” Allen sighed, also in full costume; bomber jacket, jeans and boots, but no mustache just yet. However his hair had been styled just like Prenter’s. Gwil had to admit it was a little disconcerting how much he looked like Prenter, but the differences were there if you cared to look; Allen wasn’t as tall as Prenter had been and he positively radiated happiness. He wasn’t intimidating, he seemed approachable. Everything Prenter  _ hadn’t  _ been. And, funnily enough, he was a Beta, not an Alpha. One of the few cast members that didn’t match up with their characters. The same went for Lucy; she was an Alpha.

 

If Gwil was honest he was a little worried; filming Live Aid had been draining towards the end (he still wanted to slap Singer about the place for Rami’s fainting spell; he was with Ben on this one. He laid the blame at Singer’s feet), but it had been a huge triumph for the band. It had been a happy scene and overall it had been so much  _ fun.  _ But now they’d be moving onto scenes that...Well, weren’t fun. Now they’d be focussing on discrimination and hatred for a while. It was enough to make him feel tired already.

 

But all too soon they were being called onto set; no more time to brood.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie had expected it, but he was still surprised by just how  _ viciously  _ Roger growled at the sight of poor Allen in full costume.

 

“Roggie, for goodness’ sake, calm down,” he scolded. “You’ll frighten the poor boy silly. Paul’s  _ dead,  _ remember?”

 

Roger looked slightly abashed, but he kept frowning. As the boys approached he draped himself over Freddie, holding on tight. 

 

“Roggie,” Freddie groaned again. This was getting ridiculous. It was almost like being in the 70s again. He turned to Brian and Deacy for support, but they too were frowning, looking at the set like it personally offended them. And, well, Freddie would be lying if he said he felt totally at ease. It looked  _ exactly  _ like Ray Foster’s office. It even felt chilly like his office had. The light filtered in poorly through the wooden blinds, casting sharp shadows, making the office seem bigger somehow. 

 

He remembered just how unsafe he’d felt every time they walked into that office. How Foster sneered or frowned at him every time; how often he’d been insulted, demeaned,  _ dehumanised.  _ He remembered Sheffield leering and making inappropriate comments, only keeping quiet if Roger was nearby.

 

One of the best moments of his life had been throwing that rock at Foster’s window.

 

But the boys weren’t filming that today. Today it was the band’s first meeting with Foster. 

 

_ Poor Mike,  _ Freddie thought. With Sheffield cut from the movie they’d made Foster even  _ worse.  _ The poor lad had some utterly perverted lines, that was for sure. He seemed such a cheery chap, utterly unlike Foster. He’d been an excited, babbling mess when he met  _ Queen,  _ earnestly shaking all their hands and telling them that  _ “Bohemian Rhapsody”  _ was his favourite song. He seemed like Foster’s opposite; right now he was slouching in his huge leather chair, idly rolling some pens back and forth.

 

Aidan leaned against the wall, looking relaxed, something Reid never would have done. Their old manager had wanted to appear perfect and in control at all times. 

 

And then there was Allen. He was leaning against the wall with Aidan, chatting away. Freddie had to admit, it was jarring- when he looked too quickly it really did seem like Paul was there again, back to cause more trouble. The man had been utterly obsessed and Freddie had never been able to figure out  _ why.  _ He’d never done anything to make Paul think he was interested; hell, he’d gone out of his way to  _ avoid  _ him. But for whatever reason, Paul had fixated on him. He was the one person who hadn’t believed Freddie and Roger were dating, and Freddie was certain that he could have come to work bonded and married, and Paul still would have accused them of lying.

 

He’d been more dangerous than they initially realised.

 

He didn’t look forward to the Ridge Farm scenes. One thing was for sure, he didn’t want Maeve to be there for it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Aaannnddd, _action!_ ” came the shout and the boys snapped into character. Mike’s easy going smile vanished to be replaced with a sneer as Gwil and the others came into his “office,” with Aidan leading the way, Allen bringing up the rear.

 

“Boys, this is Ray Foster,” Aidan said, easily slipping into his role as John Reid. “Ray, allow me to introduce  _ Queen:  _ Brian May, Roger Taylor, John Deacon and Freddie Mercury.”

 

“Have a seat, lads,” Mike said, indicating to the leather sofa in front of his desk. It was quite a small one and Gwil had to admit it was an uncomfortable squash: Joe’s elbow poked him in the ribs. Rami was practically in Ben’s lap, though of course that was in character too; Ben’s hand was tight on Rami’s hip and he shot Allen a suspicious glare over his shoulder.

 

Mike had perfected his sneer for this; he raised his eyebrows at Joe, he outright  _ leered  _ at Rami, looking him up and down.

 

“I’m sure you boys can understand why I had reservations,” he said, eyes glued to Rami’s hips. “Omegas in the music industry...Well, they tend to be more trouble than they’re worth. But you said he’s claimed, right John?”

 

Joe startled slightly, before “realising” that Mike was addressing Aidan. Aidan gave a stiff, uncomfortable smile.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I told you Roger’s his Alpha, remember?”

 

“Hm...Pity. Norman will be disappointed,” Mike said with that awful leer. Rami rested his head on Ben’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact. And Gwil knew it was all fake, he knew they were all just acting...But the primal side of his brain was  _ growling.  _ He wanted to push Rami behind him, to hide him. It was daft, there was no danger; they were just on a movie set. No one was  _ actually  _ going to assault Rami...But it was getting harder and harder to remember that, with Mike and Allen both eyeing him like a piece of meat.

 

_ Get it together,  _ Gwil reminded himself as Mike passed him the “contract.” He’d grilled Brian about how he’d felt reading the contract so he swallowed heavily, gripping the contract tightly as if to hide his shaking hands. Joe leaned over and gave a sharp little gasp, eyes darting to Ben and Rami nervously. From the corner of his eye, Gwil could see Roger starting to snarl, and John whispering in his ear.

 

Rami leaned over Ben. “What’s wrong?” he asked and Mike scoffed.

 

“ _ You  _ don’t need to read it,” he snapped. He gave a condescending smirk. “Let the Alphas handle the thinking, hm? No need to worry your pretty little head.”

 

“Excuse me?” Rami hissed, but Mike only turned to Ben and said, “Shut him up.”

 

“Freddie’s an equal member of this band,” Ben snapped. “Of course he’s got to read it too!”

 

Closing his eyes in a grimace, Gwil handed the contract to Ben. He heard Rami’s sharp intake of breath and Ben read the contract aloud, voice shaking with barely contained fury.

 

_ “Any and all unclaimed Omega artists will be assigned an Alpha by EMI executives. Finances will be handled by said Alpha and the Omega is to treat them as they would their respective Alpha. The appointed Alpha will have the right to demand any service of the Omega artist; they can claim their share of the Omega’s earnings, they will have equal input on the Omega’s songs and are permitted to make any demand of the Omega artist they see fit, be it in the work environment or outside it.”  _ Ben had gone red, glaring Mike down. His grip on the contract tightened, crumpling it. “Did I read that right? You expect any single Omegas to be your  _ sex toys _ in exchange for getting signed?”

 

“And what’s wrong with that?” Mike demanded. “That’s where they belong; on their backs. They want a job, we simply expect some re-compensation.” He shrugged. “They’re the ones who sign it. So what does that say about them?”

 

“I’d say it means they didn’t read between the lines,” Gwil said quietly, fists clenched. Rami hid his face in Ben’s shoulder; Gwil could see him shivering.

 

“That’s on them, isn’t it?” Mike said. His eyes slid back to Rami. “Anyway what’s it matter to you lot? He’s taken.”

 

“Damn right he is,” Ben snarled.

 

“So do we have a deal or not?” 

 

Ben’s eyes slid down the contract again; Rami peered at it, his hair mostly blocking his face.

 

“...Fred, they’ll only give you 50-60% of what the rest of us make,” Ben pointed out quietly. 

 

“That’s the best offer we’ve had so far,” Rami said, even quieter. He sounded so shaken and upset that Gwil wanted to yell “Cut!” and take a break.  _ It’s acting,  _ he reminded himself firmly. 

 

But the fact that this had actually  _ happened  _ made him want to throw up. How many Omegas had signed that contract over the years? How many hadn’t realised just what they were signing up for? How many had assumed it just meant they had to make music their assigned Alpha approved of, or that they could only project the image their assigned Alpha wanted? How many Omegas had EMI set up for rape?

 

Even one would be one too many.

 

Gwil and the boys looked at each other; he could hear the music overhead starting to swell, the opening notes to  _ “Bohemian Rhapsody”  _ itself.

 

Sighing, Gwil nodded. Joe pressed his lips together and asked for a pen, which Mike handed over with a smirk. One by one, they signed the contract. When Gwil glanced at Allen as the script directed, he saw Allen looking at Rami with such a hungry, possessive expression that he nearly jumped in fright. He’d known Allen was good, but  _ Jesus Christ,  _ it was almost too convincing.

 

They stood, Ben still with a tight grip on Rami, an arm wrapped around his hips.

 

“Don’t look so nervous, lads,” Mike laughed. “We’ll do well together.” His eyes lingered on Rami’s ass as they turned away; Ben growled, Mike chuckled and Aidan ushered them quickly out of the office with a “Nice to see you again, Ray.”

 

The door closed behind them, there came the shout of “And  _ cut! _ ” and they all slouched gratefully, breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“That was gross,” Joe said.

 

“I feel like I need a shower,” Rami said with a shudder, as they made their way back around to everyone else.

 

“Not bad,” Singer said with a shrug. “We’ll need another take, I think. Hardy, I need you to look really  _ angry.  _ Really act as if this is happening.”

 

“It did happen,” Gwil said and Singer nodded.

 

“That it did,” he said and it didn’t seem to bother him. “Now, from the top. Places!” he called to the rest of the crew.

 

Gwil glanced at  _ Queen;  _ Roger was clearly fuming; John looked sick. Brian had gone pale, but he looked seconds away from hitting someone. Freddie looked agonised and Gwil saw why: Jim Hutton was standing right behind them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Freddie, what the hell was that?” Jim blurted out and  _ oh no. _

 

“You’re early, darling!” Freddie said with forced cheer. Jim continued to frown, craning his neck to glare at Mike and Freddie sighed. “Oh, Jim love, don’t look so ferocious. It happened  _ decades  _ ago!”

 

“The fact it happened at all is terrible!” Jim blurted out. “You never told me the EMI contract said that! You said Foster was an asshole, but- but not like  _ that! _ ”

 

“To be perfectly fair, the movie is making him worse than he was,” Freddie said. He stood to his full height, which admittedly wasn’t much these days; hands on hips, he added, “We wouldn’t have signed that contract if they knew I was single, credit us with  _ some  _ sense.”

 

“We really wouldn’t have,” Brian said. Roger’s teeth were still bared in a snarl. Deacy already looked tired.

 

“Fucking hell,” Jim sighed, running his hand through his hair and Freddie’s heart went out to him, really it did. There were some things he’d just never mentioned. He hadn’t seen the need to. Compared to everything else EMI had pulled, their initial contact had ended up seeming minor. Compared to that damn ‘73 photoshoot, compared to Ridge Farm, compared to the constant discrimination, Freddie had...honestly forgotten to mention it. By the time he’d met Jim he was receiving equal pay and was working with an executive that treated him kindly. He’d told Jim the big things. He’d put up with so much that EMI’s contract simply slipped through the cracks for a long time. 

 

“Are you really surprised?” Freddie asked quietly.

 

“No,” Jim said. He pulled Freddie to him, hugging him tightly. “That’s the worst part.”

 

“The poor boys already look worn out,” Brian said. Freddie peered over his shoulder as the boys took their places again; Mike was grimacing, Allen looked abashed and their actors all look tired and awkward. Aidan was restlessly tapping his foot.

 

Freddie couldn’t blame them; most of them were too young to have been exposed to this sort of thing. They were used to Omegas being sneered at, but not being treated like objects.

 

They had a lot to learn.

 

He rather wished they didn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still to come in this series:  
> 1) Obviously, the rest of these snippets.  
> 2) Jim vs Paul.  
> 3) Peeks at Freddie and Roger's fake relationship.  
> 4) The finale.


	7. Rami and Brian: Doing All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys move on to some happier scenes; Queen and the BoRhap boys confront Singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya know, the more I read about Bryan Singer the more I'd like to hit him a slap.

**_"Got a feeling I should be doing all right. Doing all right. Where will I be this time tomorrow? Jump in joy or sinking in sorrow? Anyway I should be doing all right. Doing all right.” -Doing All Right,_ ** **Queen**

 

Rami’s stomach was in knots. In only three days they’d be moving on to the 1973 nude photoshoot. He’d never done a nude scene before, surely anyone would be nervous? And there was going to be so many _people._ There’d be the man playing Mick, all his assistants and then all the crew; the camera men, the stage hands, the assistans, Singer, the producers and _Queen,_ as well as Allen, Ben, Gwil and Joe.

 

Still, Rami reminded himself, at least he wasn’t the _only_ one taking his clothes off. Joe, Ben and Gwil would be naked too- though technically Ben had to wear those lacy red knickers for some of the scene too, but those were hardly covering. 

 

There was no point in working himself into an anxious mess, he told himself. It was happening. It was a damn important scene too. He wanted everyone to understand just how shitty things were for Omegas back then. He admired how brave Freddie had been, he admired Brian’s quick thinking, he admired just how loyal the _Queen_ boys were to each other...But he still felt sick. He didn’t want to do it, and yet he _did_ want to at the same time. He felt like a mess.

 

Still, at least they were focussing on some happier scenes today- or rather, tonight; Freddie’s first meeting with Roger and Brian, the band’s first show at Ealing, where Freddie had met Mary, and the cuddle pile afterwards. They’d moved things around in the script; according to the movie _this_ was going to be the first cuddle pile John Deacon partook in, though John himself had told them that wasn’t actually what happened- he’d had his first cuddle pile after their first proper show together at a different student bar entirely, two weeks before the Ealing show.

 

“I was too drunk to question it,” he’d laughed. “And in the morning when we woke up all tangled together...It just felt right. There was no need to worry about it, you know?”

 

Thinking of his friends, Rami was starting to get it.

 

Freddie, Roger and Brian’s first meeting was changed too. They’d said many times in interviews that they’d met at the pub Freddie worked at, the night Tim Staffell quit. Roger had gone back inside to find his jacket and heard Freddie singing; Brian had followed, wondering what was taking so long. And just like that, they’d asked Freddie to be their new lead singer.

 

The movie version was quite different, though it had some similarities.

 

Rami, taking a breather in the "pub" glanced in the mirror behind the bar, and couldn’t help but smile at his appearance; the long wig curled at the ends, nearly reaching his shoulders. He was dressed all in black, like he worked in a pub and they’d given him a denim jacket with various patches; _The Beatles_ logo, a smiling cat, a love heart, a rainbow, some musical notes and, as a nod to the _Queen_ logo, a massive phoenix was embroidered on the back of the jacket.

 

Then there was a knock on the door and Freddie walked in.

 

“Goodness, look at you!” he laughed. “I wish I had a jacket like that back then; it looks better than anything I could afford.”

 

“It’s so tacky,” Rami said. He grinned. “I love it.”

 

“Come on you, they’re nearly finished setting up,” Freddie said and Rami hopped off his stool to follow him.

 

As they made their way outside, Freddie glanced at him. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

 

“About what?”

 

“About- well, you have the ‘73 photoshoot in a few days, darling,” Freddie said gently. Rami tried to keep his expression calm and composed, but the fear must have shown, because Freddie quickly said, “Look, Rami darling, say the word and I’ll insist they delete it. I can kick up a huge fuss, say it makes me uncomfortable or anxious. I have more weight than Singer likes to think; if I seem upset enough they’ll drop it.”

 

Rami appreciated it, he truly did, but…

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I appreciate it, really, but...But it’s important. I want…” He hesitated, nervously rubbing his fingertips together. How to explain it all? “I want people to understand,” he said. “I want them to see what it was really like back then. I know you’ve given interview after interview. I know there’s been too many _Queen_ documentaries to count, but so many people still like to act like the stuff you went through didn’t happen. They ignore the arranged marriage, the harrassment, the discrimination, and I- it’s not _fair._ We can’t just keep ignoring it. Just because things are better now doesn’t mean we have total equality. I mean, look at Singer! He thinks all Omegas are idiots! So...So I know this is going to be tough to film and I won’t lie, Freddie, I’m not looking forward to it, especially with how many people will be on set, but I _want_ to do it.”

 

Freddie was staring at him, his big brown eyes solemn. His smile was gentle, if a little sad. “Well,” he said. “If you want, I can at least ask for it to be a closed set?”

 

The relief hit him so hard he felt a little breathless. “Yes please,” Rami said with a little grin.

 

Freddie linked their arms, smile widening. “Not a problem, dear.” He gave Rami’s arm a squeeze. “You’re braver than people give you credit for, you know.”

 

Rami looked him straight in the eye and said, “So are you.”

  
  
  
  
  


Much as Brian would have gotten a hoot from seeing the boys totally recreate his, Rog’s and Freddie’s first meeting, he understood that movies needed to take artistic license. From a movie maker’s standpoint, how they actually met probably seemed quite boring.

 

So, the new “first meeting”: Rami would leave the bar at closing time rather than  stay to clean up after closing, as Freddie had. He’d start to sing as he walked along, interrupting Gwil and Ben’s conversation/panic about what to do next. They’d go running after him to ask him to join them.

 

They’d found a good little building to rent, with a car park next to a back-alley, where Rami would come sauntering from. They’d even done up a van to look like Roger’s old death-trap. Poor Gwil kept patting his new wig, modelled after Brian’s old, terribly straightened hair. That hadn’t been a good look, he had to ruefully admit.

 

The pub set-up looked nothing like the one where they’d all met; no photos of that old pub survived and it had been renovated into a club years ago. But it looked like any typical local from the 60s and 70s, with a few neon lights, scuffed wooden flooring and frankly hideous furniture and a small stage area, with barely enough room to move.

 

Brian waited outside, watching with the others, as Rami came sauntering out, swinging a pair of keys, singing _“Keep Yourself Alive.”_ (The techs would cover it with Freddie’s vocals later, but they were insistent that it would be obvious if Rami mimed.) He had an alright voice, Brian had to give him that. He was clearly shy about it, having to be told multiple times to raise his voice and “stop mumbling, Malek!”

 

Singer continued to have no patience; it left Brian rolling his eyes.

 

They started again; Ben and Gwil sat in the back of the van. 

 

“Well, Tim’s right about one thing,” Ben grouched. “That show _was_ a load of bollocks.”

 

“We just...Need to think bigger,” Gwil said. "Make improvements."

 

“We need a fuckin’ _singer and bass player,_ that’s what we need, Brimi.” Ben leaned back with a sigh. “We’re fucked.”

 

And that was when Rami walked past, a few feet away in the car park.

 

 _“But if I crossed a million rivers, and I rode a million miles then I'd still be where I started, bread and butter for a smile,”_ Rami sang; Brian was hard pressed not to chuckle at the sight of so many camera men running after and around him, not to mention the two men holding the microphones, and the lighting guys.

 

Ben and Gwil sat up straighter.

 

“Who is that?” Gwil asked, turning sharply to face Ben, who was already pushing himself to his feet.

 

“One of the barmen,” Ben murmured. He raised his voice to a shout; “OI! HEY, WAIT UP!” and he took off running towards Rami, quickly followed by Gwil. Rami stopped, looking at them anxiously. He channeled Freddie perfectly; a young, nervous Omega alone in the dead of night, with two strange Alphas running towards him. He took a step back, holding his keys like a knife.

 

“What?” he asked, attempting to sound surly, but his voice wavered. His eyes darted about nervously.

 

Gwil held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Easy,” he said. “We just-”

 

“We heard you singing,” Ben said, grinning widely. He bounced in place. “Who taught you to sing like that?”

 

“No one,” Rami said. He still didn’t relax his stance. “I taught me.”

 

Gwil and Ben looked at each other, beaming.

 

“Do you have a band?” Gwil asked.

 

“Please say no,” Ben injected; Gwil elbowed him. Rami shook his head.

 

“Do you _want_ one?” Gwil asked.

 

“Please say yes,” Ben said. Rami started to smile, relaxing slightly.

 

“What, your one?” he asked. He shook his head. “You have a singer.”

 

“Hell yeah!” Ben said eagerly. “And no, Tim just quit, we need a new lead singer. So- how about it?”

 

And obviously Brian knew what the answer would be, but he found himself leaning forward all the same, waiting for Rami’s answer. Deacy actually seemed to be holding his breath; Freddie’s hands were clasped, Roger was watching intently.

 

The little Omega finally relaxed entirely, grinning, a hand flying up to hide the fake teeth.

 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I- I’m in.”

 

Ben whooped loudly, arms in the air and Gwil held his hand out.

 

“I’m Brian May.”

 

Rami shook his hand. “I’m Freddie Bulsara.”

 

_“Cut!”_

 

Surprisingly, Singer was nodding. “Not bad,” he said. 

 

“There’s no pleasing that guy,” Roger said, shaking his head. “ _Not bad_ is the best he ever gives.”

 

“Hm…” And just like that, Freddie seemed distracted. Frowning, tilting his head to the side, torn somewhere between annoyed and anxious. “I need to talk to him. Can you come with me, darlings?”

 

“What’s up, Fred?” Roger asked.

 

“I need to ask him to make the nude scenes closed set,” Freddie said. “I know Rami’s anxious about it. There’s a lot of harassment in those scenes, it’ll be hard enough without the entire crew gawping. I told him I’d get it cut entirely if he was really anxious, but…” Freddie started to smile. “But he said no. He said he wanted to show people how hard it was back then.”

 

“He’s a good kid,” Brian said approvingly.

 

“He is,” Freddie said, eyes following Singer like a cat on the prowl. “And I know Singer won’t listen to me on my own, you know what he’s like. He’ll find some way to insist I’m over-reacting.”

 

“Are we sure he’s not secretly our age?” Deacy asked. “He sure acts like a typical Alpha from the 70s.”

 

“Try the 60s,” Roger grouched. He threw an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. “Obviously we’ll go with you.”

 

“Yeah, I think he’s a little scared of Rog,” Brian laughed and Roger grinned viciously.

 

“He should be.”

  
  
  
  
  


“I actually miss the curls,” Gwil said, patting his wig for the thousandth time.

 

“It’s...It’s not a good look,” Ben said, shaking his head. Lucy giggled, whereas Joe deadpanned, “I’m just happy to lose the perm.”

 

And then _Queen_ came over.

 

“Sorry darlings, can we borrow you four for a minute?” Freddie asked. Obediently, Rami and the other three followed.

 

“So, we’re going to talk to Singer about making the ‘73 shoot a closed set,” Freddie began; Gwil, Joe and even Ben seemed relieved. Ben had seemed so _chill_ about it when they’d last discussed those scenes. Rami had put it down to Ben having done such scenes before, though he supposed something like that would never truly stop making you nervous. 

 

“We were wondering if you wanted to come with us?” Brian asked.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Joe said. Gwil nodded.

 

“Hope he agrees,” Gwil said as they went in search of the director. 

 

“Oh he will,” Roger said, with a slightly evil smile. “Trust me.”

 

Rami once more made a mental note to never _ever_ anger Roger Taylor.

  
  
  
  
  


As expected, they found Singer doing...not much at all. Unlike the other members of the crew he wasn’t reviewing footage or banding together to discuss the upcoming scenes, or even chatting at all. He lounged in his chair, scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

 

“We need to talk to you,” Brian said.

 

“Oh?” Singer looked mildly surprised to see all eight of them banded together. “What about?”

 

“The nude scenes,” Roger said bluntly. “We want them to be closed set.”

 

Singer scoffed, eyes back his phone. “What for? It’s not that big a deal.”

 

“Spoken like someone who’s never been harassed in his life,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “I’ll be blunt, dear- it makes me uncomfortable and I’d rather not expose the boys to that.” He widened his eyes in the way Brian knew so well, amping up the  _"_ _I’m defenceless”_ act. “It was hard enough to go through the first time, but there’s just...So many crew members that don’t even _need_ to be there. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“The rest of us aren’t happy about it either,” Roger added. Deacy nodded, folding his arms. 

 

“What’s the harm in making it less stressful?” Deacy asked.

 

Singer sighed. He turned to their actors. “You’re with them on this?” he asked. The boys all nodded.

 

“It’ll make things easier,” Gwil said.

 

Singer looked them all over slowly. As always he looked faintly unimpressed when he looked at Rami and Freddie. His eyes went back to Rami, looking him up and down. He frowned, looking completely put-upon, as if they were all being utterly unreasonable. Brian wanted to shake him until he agreed.

 

“It’s either this or I go to your bosses and demand they cut it entirely,” Freddie snapped, done with his doe-eyed act. The actors looked at him with clear shock, but no one was as shocked as Singer. His mouth actually hung open when he looked at Freddie. After a moment, he scoffed.

 

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “You _couldn’t._ They’d never agree.”

 

“Try me, darling,” Freddie said with a smile. “I’m Freddie fucking Mercury.”

 

The silence dragged on before Singer finally nodded, still glaring.

 

“Fine,” he snarled. “It can be a closed set.”

 

Freddie smiled brighter.

 

“Smart,” he said. “Come along, my dears.” He turned on his heel and marched away; nearly laughing, Brian and the boys followed him; their actors trailed just behind.

 

“He actually listened to you!” Joe said. He sounded perfectly astonished. “Would you really have gotten it cut?”

 

“If I had to,” Freddie said.

 

“There’s some people that wouldn’t be professional about it,” Brian said, frowning. “A closed set is best all around.”

 

“Thanks guys,” Ben said. Roger patted him on the back with a fond smile.

 

All too soon their break was done; the boys were called into place to go over _Smile’s_ last performance with Tim again.

 

“Think Singer will cause trouble?” Brian asked quietly, as _“Doing All Right”_ began to play.

 

“You mean more trouble than he already has?” Freddie’s eyes were on the actors. “Definitely.”

 

“Well, it’s simple,” Roger said. “We won’t let him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, before we get into some angst, we'll see Rami's prank on Ben 😉


	8. Joe: Rock 'N Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rami decides to prank Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of silly filler until the next chapter. Honestly, Rami went all out with that prank; well done.

**_“When it's you and me we don't need no one to tell us who to be. We'll keep turning up the radio. What if you and I just put up, a middle finger to the sky? Let them know that we're still rock 'n roll.” -Rock ‘N Roll,_ ** **Avril Lavigne**

 

Joe was just practicing some chords with John when Rami practically skipped over with a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“How would you like to prank Ben?” he asked.

 

“I’m in,” Joe said.

 

“...I haven’t even told you what the plan is yet, Joe.”

 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m in.”

 

John rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “What do you have in mind, Rami?” he asked.

 

“Well, first things first,” Rami said. “Ben can’t actually play the drums properly. So…”

  
  
  
  
  


It was too easy. Joe went to Gwil, who went to Brian and Freddie, who went to Roger, who went to the _producers._ Pretty soon everyone except Ben (and Singer) was in on the prank.

 

All they had to do then, was track down Ben. 

 

“I feel mean,” Gwil admitted, as they went in search of him. 

 

“But it’s going to be _so_ funny,” Joe said.

 

Gwil started to smile, Rami snickered into his fist. “Okay, yeah,” Gwil said. “It’ll be funny.”

 

They found Ben soon enough; he was just leaving his latest costume fitting.

 

“Ben!” Rami called. “Hey, listen, we need to tell you something…”

 

“What’s up?” Ben asked.

 

“We overheard Roger talking to the producers,” Rami said. “He said he wants you to _actually_ do the drum solo in _Keep Yourself Alive._ ”

 

Ben blinked. He looked around at them all and smiled, shaking his head. “You’re winding me up.”

 

“It’s true, we heard him,” Joe insisted. There was a nervous edge to Ben’s smile, but he just said, “Nah, bullshit, I don’t believe you.”

 

“Ask him yourself,” Gwil said.

 

“I will!” And Ben started to march off; the other three ran after him. This would be too good to miss.

  
  
  
  
  


_Queen_ were sitting at a picnic table on set, enjoying their lunch when Ben came speed walking up to them. Joe was desperately trying to keep a straight face; Ben clearly wanted to seem cool and careless, but he was obviously starting to panic.

 

“Uh, Roger,” Ben started. “Rami and the boys say you, uh...You actually want me to do the drum solo in _Keep Yourself Alive_?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Roger said, nodding. “Definitely. The producers and AD’s agreed when I asked for it.”

 

“They did?” Ben asked, voice cracking slightly. He was starting to look pale.

 

“They did,” Roger confirmed.

 

“Oh...Right…” Ben swallowed. His eyes darted nervously back to Joe and the others. Gwil was managing to keep a perfectly straight face, but Joe was hard pressed not to laugh. Really, it served Ben right.

 

And then Ben abruptly said, “Right, I’ll be right back,” and straight up _ran_ for his trailer. The door slammed behind him.

 

“...He’s locked himself in, hasn’t he?” Brian asked. Freddie buried his face in his arms and started to howl laughing. Roger pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle his cackles. John shook his head but he was grinning, looking all too pleased.

 

It was enough to crack Joe’s composure; he finally let go and laughed. Rami was snickering again, but he rushed over to Ben’s trailer and knocked on the door.

 

“Ben, come on! Come out!”

 

“Fuck off, Rams!”

 

Rami tugged on the door; it was indeed locked. He looked back at them all and mouthed _“What the fuck?”_

 

“He really locked himself in,” Gwil said, his laughter slowing down. “Oh God, maybe we took it too far.”

 

“A little fear will do him good,” Roger chuckled as Rami continued to pound on the trailer door.

 

“Hm...You locked yourself in a cupboard, he locked himself in a trailer…” Freddie mused. “Good casting choice.”

 

“Put the poor boy out his misery, Rami,” John called. Rami rested his forehead on the trailer door. Eventually he said, “For God’s sake, Ben, we’re joking! It’s a prank!”

 

They couldn’t hear Ben’s response, but they could hear Rami; “It’s a _prank,_ I mean it. I got everyone in on it. You don’t have to do the damn solo, okay? Now get out of there!”

 

The door flung open, nearly sending Rami flying.

 

“You _fuckers!_ ” Ben shouted. “Are you serious!?”

 

“You will have to play eventually,” Roger said. “But this drum solo today? No.”

 

Ben turned to Rami. “Start running,” he warned. Laughing, Rami ran straight to Gwil and hopped on his back.

 

“Run Gwil!”

 

“On it,” Gwil said. He started sprinting, Rami on his back. Ben ran after them, shouting obscenities. Joe laughed so hard he collapsed on the bench next to Freddie.

 

“Serves you right, you liar!” Joe shouted. Ben flipped him off, but continued chasing their friends.

 

“Should we stop them?” John asked.

 

“Are you kidding?” Roger’s grin had an evil edge to it. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had all week!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up we'll be focussing on the '73 photoshoot; we are heading towards some angst. You know me, I'm not fluffy all the time. With luck the next chapter will be finished tonight- fingers crossed!


	9. John and Ben: Honestly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The filming of the nude photoshoot begins: Singer incurs the combined wrath of Queen and their actors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singer. Is. Gross.  
> TRIGGER WARNING for sexual harassment. Yes, it's only the boys acting it out, but proceed with caution if it could upset you ❤

**Early November, 2017**   
**_“Doin' what you gotta do to get your way; you're reckless and selfish and you can't help it. Say you're talkin' to me honestly, but you're lyin' to me constantly, oh. All the bullshit, I don't need it. And honestly, I don't believe it, nah. Say you're talkin' to me honestly, but I don't want your dumb apology, no. Say you're sorry, you don't mean it. Sorry that I don't believe it, nah.” -Honestly,_ ** **Gabbie Hanna**

 

The truly frustrating thing was that the filming of this scene had been pushed back by two weeks; Singer hadn't turned up to the set for two straight weeks and offered a careless apology when he was confronted about it. He'd marched back into set like he'd only been gone for a day, briskly telling everyone to get back to work, shouting at his assistant and sneering at every word Rami and Freddie said.

 

Maybe they should have realised Singer would pull something like this. John arrived at the rented studio with Freddie and immediately realised he couldn’t see Roger or Brian anywhere.

 

It was a closed set as promised, and Singer didn’t look happy about it. It was just the necessary crew and the actors, but when he caught sight of Freddie and John he  _ smirked. _

 

“Fred, I’ve a bad feeling about this,” John said, grabbing his friend’s wrist. Freddie paused, looking around.

 

“Bri and Rog texted to say they were already here,” Freddie murmured. They both looked back at Singer; that smug smirk, how angry he’d been at them…

 

They marched over, clasping each other’s hands tightly.

 

“Where are Brian and Roger?” John asked, barely keeping the anger from his voice.

 

“They’re not allowed on set today,” Singer said, smirk widening. “You wanted it to be a closed set...Well, I see no need to have extra Alphas around too. It’ll just make Rami  _ anxious,  _ right?”

 

Freddie’s eyes narrowed, his breath left him in a furious hiss. “You sneaky son of a-”

 

“This is what you wanted,” Singer cut him off coldly. “Unless you’d like to wait outside as well, I’d suggest staying quiet like a  _ good  _ Omega.” His words hit John like a slap in the face; he could only imagine what it felt like for Freddie, hearing that again for the first time in years. Singer seemed satisfied by their silence; he walked away without waiting for a response.

 

“Jesus Christ,” John breathed. He felt sick to his stomach. It was exactly the sort of sneaky move that Foster and Sheffield would have pulled. He wondered if the script had given Singer the idea.

 

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Freddie demanded. His voice wavered, but his eyes were blazing with anger. “And who the hell does he think  _ I  _ am? Hell, what  _ year  _ does he think this is!?” He was starting to go red, his hands were shaking. “I’m going to give that bastard a piece of my mind!”

 

John grabbed his hand again before he could go storming off.

 

“Freddie, no! We can’t let him kick us out- someone has to look after the boys today.”

 

That stopped Freddie in his tracks. His shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him.

 

“I’m tired, Deacy,” he admitted quietly.

 

“I know,” John said, more upset than he wanted to let on. It felt like they were in Foster’s office all over again, listening to his blatant discrimination and unable to shut him up. That fucking photoshoot had been set up because Freddie stuck up for himself, but also because he stuck up for  _ John,  _ and he’d felt more guilty than he could say, though Freddie had insisted it wasn’t John’s fault.

 

And now, because he stuck up for Rami, because he stuck up for all four of them really, Singer had barred their best friends from the set; he’d banned their group’s Alphas, the only two that Singer would  _ really  _ listen to.

 

John hated it. He felt like that frightened kid again. But he couldn’t afford to be scared; this shoot had been a million times worse for Freddie. John had to keep an eye on him as well. At the first sign of Freddie getting anxious, John would  _ make  _ them call cut.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ben had to admit this was awkward and he wasn’t even naked yet. Technically speaking, none of them were yet: Gwil and Joe were in their robes and he had a black robe thrown over the red lace knickers he had to wear. Rami was in full costume- a loose pink shirt and flared black pants- though of course, that wouldn’t last.

 

Something about this was nagging at him. Singer was looking so  _ smug  _ about something; John looked pale and tense, Freddie was simmering with anger, but the singer also looked ready to lie down and take a nap.

 

Then it hit him: where were Brian and Roger? He’d seen them earlier, following Singer into the room he’d taken over for his office. Shouldn’t they be here by now? They were closing the doors…

 

_ “ACTION!” _

 

Well, there was no time to worry about it now. He took a deep breath and snapped into character.

 

The dressing room was quite spacious; he and Gwil lounged on the black leather sofa, Joe sat at the vanity, legs crossed. It was damn near impossible to ignore the cameras, or the men behind them. He could dimly hear Rami snapping at Allen, in character as Freddie and then the door flung open.

 

Allen’s smug smile vanished. “What the  _ fuck  _ are you all doing here?” he demanded, tightly holding Rami’s arm.

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing touching my boyfriend?” Ben demanded, mimicking Allen’s tone. He stood and stormed over, pulling Rami into his arms. “Thought I’ve told you a million times to not touch him?” He poked the “mark” on Rami’s neck, glaring up at Allen. “Now fuck off.” He slammed the door in Allen’s face and hugged Rami tightly, rocking them back and forth.

 

“You okay, Fred?”

 

“I- I’m fine, but...Darling, what are you all doing here?” Rami asked, clinging to him.

 

“Told you I’d think of something,” Gwil said with a bright smile. When Rami looked at him questioningly he continued; “I went to Reid. I told him that, yeah, pictures of you may entice Alphas into buying our albums, but what about our Beta and Omega fans? So I convinced him we should  _ all  _ pose naked and  _ really  _ rake in the money.”

 

“And Foster agreed?” Rami asked, eyes wide.

 

“Well...Thing is, he doesn’t actually  _ know  _ yet,” Gwil said mischievously. At that, Rami burst out laughing and flung himself into Gwil’s lap, arms around the Alpha’s neck.

 

“Brimi, you’re  _ brilliant,  _ I love you!”

 

“I love you too, Fred,” Gwil said gently. “That’s why I’m not letting them away with this. None of us are.”

 

“If they mess with one of us they mess with all of us,” Joe chimed in, coming over to sit next to them.

 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this, darling?” Rami asked, peering over his shoulder at Joe. Joe smiled, squeezing Rami’s shoulder.

 

“You’d do the same for me,” he said with warm certainty. Rami smiled, relaxing his tense shoulders.

 

“Now let’s go show ‘em how sexy we all are, yeah?” Ben asked with a laugh.

 

“About that- what’s with the knickers, Roggie?”

 

“Sophie’s idea,” Ben said quickly.

 

“Liar,” Joe said with a smug smile. Ben slapped his arm; Rami climbed off Gwil and walked to a corner of the room, keeping his back to them as he shrugged his clothes off. Ben could see his hands shaking, he could see how pale he was getting. He wanted to ask if Rami was okay, but he couldn’t; the cameras were still rolling. And while most of the cameramen were discreetly averting their eyes, or making an effort to look only at Rami’s face, a few looked like they were enjoying this a bit too much.

 

It was an effort not to growl. As soon as Rami’s clothes were off, Ben hurried over to hand him a red robe.

 

“Ready, Freddie?” he asked, cupping his cheek.

 

Rami’s smile was wobbly and Ben couldn’t tell if that was in character or not.

 

“Let’s do it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


What struck John the most was just how much this studio looked like Mick’s old one. They’d clearly done their research, they’d clearly listened to  _ Queen’s  _ recollections. It was large and spacious, white walls and floors, enough cables on the floor to trip you with every step you took. And John lingered by the back wall, holding Freddie’s hand as the boys came trooping out of the dressing room. Ben copied Roger’s confident swagger, Joe had his nervous glances and shaky smile down cold, Gwil kept his expression stony; Rami was tucked under Ben’s arm, eyes on the floor.

 

It was like peeking through a window into the past. John remembered how nervous he’d been that day, he remembered how angry he’d been too. They’d been surrounded by twenty Alphas and two Betas and almost everyone had touched Freddie, or made lewd comments; they’d leered and stared and laughed, until John had wanted to cry and it hadn’t even been aimed at  _ him.  _

 

And as the boys dropped their robes the comments started.

 

“What I wouldn’t give to borrow him for a night.”

 

“Is it true he can put his legs over his head?”

 

“Roger’s one lucky Alpha.”

 

Blushing, Rami hid his face in Ben’s shoulder.

 

“Aw, look, he’s playing shy.”

 

“ _ Playing  _ is right- all Omegas are sluts.”

 

“Bet you anything the little whore’s wet already.”

 

There was Allen, leaning against the wall, arms folded. His expression was hungry, eyes wide and staring unblinkingly at Rami, religiously following his every move. It was a closed set, but it was still more people than  _ Queen  _ had to put up with. John had to admit, almost everyone was being perfectly professional, but he could  _ see  _ some cameramen leering and smirking...And then there was Singer. He was sitting in his chair, smiling outright, eyes glued to Rami. Allen was only acting, but it hit John like a punch that Singer  _ wasn’t.  _

 

_ Oh God,  _ he thought, fighting against a sudden wave of nausea. He couldn’t let Freddie see that. He turned to his friend, but Freddie was looking at their actors. He looked so upset that John wanted to take him outside and hunt down Roger or go call Jim. But they couldn’t dare leave. With Singer looking like that who knew what he’d pull if they left? He was probably  _ hoping  _ they’d leave. John wouldn’t play into his hands.

 

“It looks just like it did,” Freddie whispered. “God, there were so many people there…”

 

“I know,” John said. “But it’s over, Freddie. It’s okay.”

 

And Freddie looked at Singer, his eyes flashing. “No,” he said. “It’s not, is it?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


As the scene went on, Ben could barely look away from Rami. Thankfully that was part of the script, so it wasn’t like Singer could yell at him. But he was worried: Rami just looked paler and paler, eyes darting about anxiously, nibbling his lip. He barely managed to respond to the instructions in time. Finally, Singer called for them to stop.

 

“Start it again,” he snapped. “Malek, you look like a deer in the headlights.”

 

“He’s  _ supposed  _ to!” Ben said indignantly, but Singer ignored him.

 

“Start again,” he demanded. He looked impatient as always, but Ben didn’t miss how he looked Rami up and down, or how his eyes were glued to Rami’s ass as they went back to the dressing room.

 

_ No fucking way,  _ Ben thought. Surely he’d read it wrong? Singer wasn’t interested in Rami, he seemed to  _ hate  _ him. But some older Alphas were like that, weren’t they? Some of them treated every Omega like dirt, even ones they were attracted to. Hadn’t Prenter been like that? Hadn’t Sheffield and Foster been like that? By all accounts Foster had treated his wife terribly, and they'd all been told how Sheffield had made lewd comments about Freddie whenever Roger wasn't in earshot. As for Prenter...The man had been obsessive and violent, through and through.

 

Christ, it was 2017, how did people still  _ think  _ that way?

 

He wanted to run across the room and punch the smug look off Singer’s face, but he had no choice but to run through the scene again.

  
  
  
  
  
  


By the start of the fifth take, John marched up to Singer.

 

“You’ve made your point,” he hissed. “For goodness sake, just let them finish the scene. They’re doing brilliantly, you’ve no reason to keep yelling at them.” 

 

“They’ll keep going until they get it right,” Singer said smoothly; his raise eyebrows and careless expression brought Sheffield to mind and it made John have to hold back a shudder. 

 

He wanted to slap him; he wanted to end this scene himself. He wanted to find Brian and Roger- they’d know just how to snarl and growl and intimidate Singer into compliance. He wanted this all to  _ stop. _

 

And then Rami started crying.

 

As one of the extras grabbed his ass (as the script instructed) tears started streaming down his cheeks- which most certainly was _not_ scripted. He made no noise, keeping his head bowed, but it was obvious to everyone in the room. The man playing Mick shot Singer an uncertain look. Joe instantly started to go to Rami, but Singer shouted, “Get back in place, Mazzello!”

 

“Call cut,” Freddie demanded, quiet and fierce.

 

“He’s fine,” Singer said, rolling his eyes. “He’s meant to look upset. Didn’t you say you were nearly crying back then?”

 

“Call. Cut,” Freddie repeated, teeth bared in a snarl. Singer laughed at him and that was it.

 

_ “CUT!”  _ Freddie yelled- and everyone stopped, staring with wide eyes. Joe ran and grabbed Rami’s robe, helping him into it.

 

“It’s okay,” John heard him say. “You’re okay, Rami.”

 

Singer stood up, towering over Freddie.

 

“What the hell was that?” he demanded furiously. “Are you the director here? Are you in charge? Keep your fucking mouth  _ shut,  _ unless you want to be thrown out too!”

 

Freddie stood firm, staring up at Singer like he was a particularly disgusting insect.

 

“Show some fucking humanity unless you want to lose your job,” he said icily. “And if I catch you looking at Rami like that again, you can be damn sure you’ll be dealing with me.”

 

“What can  _ you  _ do?” Singer sneered. “An Omega past his prime? Your useless.”

 

“I’ve gone up against men more powerful than you and won,” Freddie warned him quietly. “I’ve gone up against men  _ scarier  _ than you and won. If you touch those boys- if you hurt them or humiliate them, I swear to God, I’ll make your life  _ hell. _ ” He turned to John. “Come on, darling, we need to check on the boys.”

 

John glared Singer down as they walked past him. An assistant director came over and whisper furiously in Singer’s ear, but the director pushed away from him and stormed out of the room.

 

Their actors were huddled on the sofa in the dressing room, all in their robes; Rami was still in tears, wrapped up in Joe’s arms. Someone had thrown a blanket over him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

“It’s a hard scene, Rams,” Gwil said, an arm around Rami’s shoulder, at an admittedly awkward angle. “It’s perfectly natural to be upset, there’s too many people putting their hands on you. The things they were saying were disgusting; but it’s okay, it’s done for now, okay? We’re right here. You’re alright.”

 

Ben was pacing back and forth furiously. He glared when he heard the door open, but when he saw John and Freddie he relaxed a little.

 

“I want that bastard gone,” Ben snarled, looking so much like Roger it was alarming. “I want him fucking  _ gone.  _ Did you  _ see  _ him? He was-”

 

“No need to upset Rami further, Ben,” John warned. It shut Ben up. Sighing, he joined his friends on the sofa.

 

“He’s right,” Freddie said. Awkwardly he knelt, holding onto Rami’s hands. “Singer can’t be trusted.”

 

“We’ll have to talk to Bri and Rog,” John said. It’d certainly take all four of them to sort this out. 

 

But if they could out-maneuver Sheffield and Foster, John was certain they could handle Singer too. 

  
_ No one messes with my pack,  _ John thought furiously- and it was quickly becoming clear that no one messed with their actors’ pack either.  _ No matter what, _ John decided,  _ Singer’s days are numbered. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singer's days are numbered; never mess with Queen.


	10. Brian, Rami and Joe: Speechless (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Singer crosses the line the boys wonder how they can get rid of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll level with you guys; my nanny just got admitted to hospital today (literally an hour ago), so while I'd love to get Part 2 of this up by tomorrow I can't make any promises. We'll just have to see how today goes.

**November 19th-26th, 2017**   
**_“Here comes a wave meant to wash me away, a tide that is taking me under_. ** ** _Swallowed in sand, left with nothing to say, my voice drowned out in the thunder. But I won't cry and I won't start to crumble, whenever they try to shut me or cut me down.” -Speechless,_ ** **Naomi Scott**

 

Singer yelled, “I don’t take orders from whores like you!” The light stand went flying, missing Rami’s head by inches to crash against the farthest wall. For a moment everyone fell silent.

 

Then the entire set burst into chaos.

  
  
  
  
  


Rewind. How did they get to that? It started just before they broke up for Thanksgiving. Singer hadn’t shown up to set in three days, but before that after the nude scenes, _Queen_ cornered him in his office to give him hell, and he held his hands up in surrender.

 

“Maybe I was...over-zealous in interpreting your requests,” he said.

 

“Call it what you want,” Brian said briskly. “But we _are_ members of this crew; ban us again and we’ll go to your bosses. Put the cast through so much stress and embarrassment that one of them _cries_ again, and you refuse to call cut again, and I’ll invite Miami down here. I’ll be damn sure to call their agents.” He meant every word. He’d absolutely had it with this snake. He’d seen too much and been through too much to be frightened of the likes of Singer. This movie had come to mean a lot to him; those kids meant a lot to him and Brian would be damned if he let one more entitled, stuck up pig get his way.

 

“And if you _ever_ talk to Fred like that again,” Roger added cheerfully. “I’ll do my damn best to get you replaced.” His smile vanished. “You’re not popular, Singer. Fox was wary about hiring you to begin with. You’re already on thin ice with them for vanishing for two weeks. Thread carefully.”

 

“I was looking after my mother,” Singer snapped. “She was ill.”

 

“Funny how no one could verify that,” Deacy hummed. Freddie only glared Singer down. He didn’t seem to find the man worthy of his time at this point. Brian quite knew the feeling.

 

“You’ll apologise to Rami,” Brian ordered. 

 

Singer was clearly simmering, but for once the man held his tongue. He nodded. “Fine,” he said, as if that one word was choking him,

 

“You’d better,” Freddie said coldly, the first time he’d acknowledged Singer in the whole meeting. He turned on his heel. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to check on them again before going home. Ta-ta.” He slammed the door behind him. Roger smirked at Singer again.

 

“Who do you really think the public would believe?” he asked. “Freddie Mercury, one of Britain’s darlings...Or you? Accused of-”

 

“Those charges were dropped,” Singer growled.

 

“Dropped,” Roger agreed. “Not disproven.” He followed Freddie, Brian and Deacy at his heels.

 

“I don’t think bringing those charges up was a smart move,” Deacy warned.

 

“Maybe it’ll scare him into behaving for a while,” Roger said.

 

“For a while,” Brian sighed. “But not forever. Mark my words, he’ll be snapping and snarling and throwing tantrums again by tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  
  


But no. After that, Singer didn’t show up. Three days passed before Singer showed his face on set again; he returned day before they broke up for Thanksgiving, and Singer asked to speak to Rami as filming ended. Once more it was at a frankly stupid hour; filming had gone on until ten pm, and considering they’d been at it since seven-thirty in the morning all Rami wanted was to go home to bed.

 

Yawning, he went to Singer’s little office.

 

“It seems I owe you an apology, Malek,” Singer said. His teeth were grit, it seemed like every word physically pained him- but the words themselves were enough to shock Rami out of his sleepy state. He suddenly felt wide awake, trying not to gawp in shock.

 

“I...Pardon?” Rami asked.

 

Singer cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ve been rude,” he said. _Understatement of the century,_ Rami thought. “And I’ve been taking my stress out on you,” Singer continued. “And I forced you to work when you were ill and again when you were in clear emotional distress. So...I apologise.”

 

It sounded rehearsed. Rami wondered just what brought it on. He wondered if it was even genuine, though Singer’s discomfort was clearly real.

 

“Thank you,” Rami said, as the silence was reaching the point of being unbearable. What could he say really? _I don’t believe you, you’re an asshole, I don’t forgive you, I don’t trust you._ Yeah. _That_ wouldn’t just cause another fight. Whatever. Even if Singer wasn’t genuine it was probably best to just smile and nod. Whatever got him home faster.

 

Singer nodded. He looked Rami up and down. “Well...You did a good job today,” he said, which was a first and a total shock. One: Singer never _ever_ handed out compliments. Two: He’d been in a foul mood all day. He’d spent all day snapping at everyone. They’d filmed Freddie’s reunion with Kashmira, a montage of concerts and John’s audition, and Singer had spent all day insisting it wasn’t quite right, that they weren’t paying attention. And it wasn’t just the cast, he’d snapped at the crew, insisting the light wasn’t right, the sound wasn’t right, the camera angles weren’t right...Nothing had pleased him. He’d shut up when he caught Brian frowning at him, but he’d started up again barely an hour later.

 

So was Rami shocked? Yes. Just shocked enough that he didn’t question it when Singer came out from behind his desk and stood in front of it.

 

“You’re playing one of the most famous Omegas in the world,” Singer said for the millionth time. Usually it was a reprimand, now it just sounded like an observation. “But you’re also playing one of the most beautiful.”

 

Rami nodded. He knew that, he agreed with that; Freddie had been a stunner. For every person that bitched about his teeth, his height or his race, ten more would call him beautiful. 

 

But then he realised Singer was just _staring_ at him, face eerily blank and he edged towards the door.

 

“They made a good choice picking you,” Singer said softly.

 

“Thanks,” Rami said. He coughed. “Listen, I’ve got to go-”

 

He was cut off when Singer kissed him roughly, hands on Rami’s face, holding him in place. And Rami just _froze._

 

 _Fuck,_ he thought. _What the fuck?_

 

This was _Singer._ Singer hated him. Didn’t he?

 

He snapped out of it when one of Singer’s hands cupped his hip, trying to pull him closer. Suddenly furious, Rami stomped on Singer’s foot as hard as he could; Singer’s grip slackened as he yelped in pain, and Rami all but leaped out of the startled Alpha’s arms.

 

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, backing away to the door. Only a few more inches and he could reach the door handle and run. So long as he kept out of Singer’s reach he’d be okay.

 

“I’m trying to make it up to you,” Singer said calmly, if slightly annoyed, like he thought Rami was being ridiculous. “Come on, Malek, you’re an _Omega._ You can drop the shy act, I’ve seen you with the others. You can’t say you haven’t thought of it.” He reached out. “C’mon, come here.”

 

“You think I’ve thought of sex with _you?_ ” Rami laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Get a grip! I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole!” He grabbed the door handle, pulling the door open with more force than necessary. “You’re as bad as Foster and Sheffield,” he spat. “Hell, you’re as bad as Prenter. Don’t _ever_ touch me again.”

 

And he ran, ignoring Singer yelling after him.

  
  
  
  
  


A week later, they were all back at set...But Singer never showed up. There was no answer when they called his phone. They checked his apartment in London and no one was there. He hadn’t come back from America yet.

 

“What the hell do we do now?” Ben asked, to which Joe had no answer. They were all crowded together in the “living area” as they’d dubbed it. It was a large, cosy room with sofas aplenty, a minibar and huge TV. Almost the entire cast was gathered; Ben, Rami, Gwil, Joe, Lucy, Allen, Aaron, Mike, Tom, and Priya.

 

“It’s been four days and he’s _still_ not answering his phone!” Lucy complained.

 

“Actually, he answered today,” came Aidan’s voice from the doorway. He looked exhausted. “I overheard Newton talking to _Queen;_ Singer says his mother’s ill again.”

 

They all groaned.

 

“Look, I’ll feel bad if it’s true,” Gwil said. “But no one can ever actually _verify_ if she’s ill or not- and he’s not exactly trustworthy.”

 

“You can say that again,” Rami mumbled. Joe turned to him with clear concern.

 

“Ram, are you okay? You’ve been…Really droopy since we got back,” he said.

 

Rami sighed. “I’m not looking forward to seeing Singer,” he said.

 

“Tell me about it,” Allen said, raising his Cola can in a salute. “He’s a bastard.”

 

But Joe knew Rami too well: he didn’t just looked tired, he looked _anxious._ He kept looking over his shoulder, like he expected someone to jump out at him. 

 

Joe’s immediate thought was _What did Singer do now?_ He dimly wondered if this was how John felt about Prenter.

 

Right then. Intervention time.

  
  
  
  
  


Joe fetched Gwil and Ben and they cornered Rami in his trailer. Away from the crowd, Rami looked smaller and more drained than ever. He startled when the door opened, though he relaxed when he saw them.

 

“Alright, I’ll cut to the chase- what’s going on, Rami?” Joe asked, sitting next to him. Gwil sat on his other side and Ben took a seat next to Joe.

 

Rami looked around at them all, biting his lip. He wasn’t in costume, there was no need for it- nothing was getting done today. “I...Guys, do I act like I’m leading anyone on?” he asked, which- _what the fuck?_

 

“What?” Gwil’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Come off it, of course not!”

 

“Has someone been saying you have?” Ben asked gently.

 

Rami shrugged. “Not exactly,” he said. “I just…”

 

“Just what, Rams?” Joe asked. He took Rami’s hand and that seemed to do the trick.

 

“Look, maybe I’m overreacting,” Rami said. “But, um...Before we broke up for Thanksgiving, Singer...He apologised to me for- well for being so shitty. But then he says something like _You’re playing one of the most beautiful Omegas in the world, they made a good choice..._ I dunno, I can’t remember exactly. Then he…” Rami swallowed. He looked so tiny that Joe wanted to hide him away from the world. And he knew, suddenly, what Rami was going to say.

 

“He kissed me,” Rami whispered.

 

“He fucking _what!?_ ” Ben exploded; Joe couldn’t stop a furious growl from escaping. He bared his teeth in a snarl before he could stop himself. Gwil had gone red, also snarling, but he was clearly making an effort to keep calm; he hugged Rami tightly, burying his face in their friend’s curly hair.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Rami said. “I thought he hated me.”

 

“We can’t work with him,” Joe said. His chest felt tight, he felt too hot, the trailer felt too small. “We _can’t._ No way.”

 

“Rami, you need to tell someone,” Ben said.

 

“No way,” Rami said, clinging to Gwil. “I can’t. What if they don’t believe me?”

 

“We can tell _Queen,”_ Ben said. He looked near tears. “Rami, please- I don’t want him to hurt you.”

 

“You know they’ll help,” Joe added. It was a straw to grasp at. He trusted those four; they’d looked after them from the day they met. “They’ve been dealing with this sort of thing for years, they’ll know what to do and who to talk to.” He reached out to squeeze Rami’s shoulder. “Please, Rams. We just want to protect you.”

 

Thankfully, blessedly, Rami nodded and Joe could _breathe_ again.

 

“Cuddle pile?” Gwil suggested. Rami let out a watery little laugh, but nodded. Ben immediately grabbed every pillow in the trailer and set about arranging them on the floor into a little nest. And as they lay down, Joe held Rami close to his chest, nuzzling at his hair and mixing their scents. Sure, it’d be more effective if Rami smelled like Ben or Gwil- they were the Alphas after all- but at least it’d let everyone know that Rami was being looked after.

 

Gwil was spooning Joe and Ben spooned Rami; they all clung together tightly, so tangled that Joe wasn’t sure how they were supposed to get back up.

 

“I say we take a nap,” Ben said. “And find _Queen_ at lunch, okay?”

 

“It’s a plan,” Gwil said. “Rami, Joe?”

 

“Fine by me,” Joe said.

 

Rami nodded again. “Okay,” he said quietly.

 

The others eventually drifted off, but Joe’s mind wouldn’t shut up and let him rest. His thought went a mile a minute as he wondered just how to handle this and what would come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Singer returns to set and shit hits the fan.


	11. Gwil, Roger and Maeve: Speechless (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singer's last day on set invites more drama than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly happy with this one, but my brain is scattered right now. Updates are gonna be slower while my nanny's in hospital guys; thanks for understanding ❤

**_“Let the storm in, I cannot be broken, no I won't live unspoken. 'Cause I know that I won't go speechless. Try to lock me in this cage, I won't just lay me down and die. I will take these broken wings and watch me burn across the sky. And it echoes saying I won't be silenced.” -Speechless,_ ** **Naomi Scott**

 

As planned, the boys went to  _ Queen.  _ Joe held Rami’s hand tightly, Ben kept looking over his shoulder like he expected Singer to appear out of nowhere. Rami shifted uncomfortably, eyes on the floor; it was down to Gwil to do most of the talking.

 

“He has to go,” Roger said as soon as Gwil was done. He looked like he was struggling not to lose it. “This is the absolute  _ limit,  _ Fox  _ has  _ to listen now.”

 

“You’re sure you’re okay, Rami?” Freddie asked. Rami nodded.

 

“Just embarrassed,” he mumbled.

 

“Don’t be,” Brian said, gently but firmly; it reminded Gwil of a teacher’s voice. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, Rami, it’s not your fault.”

 

Gwil wondered just how often they’d dealt with something like this; how many times had they heard of or been through similar scenarios; how many times had they given these little comforting talks?

 

“We’ll get onto the Fox executives,” John said with a comforting smile. “Combine this with how often Singer’s late or doesn’t show up, and they’ll  _ have  _ to get rid of him.”

 

“Not to mention everyone here hates him,” Roger snorted. He was scowling heavily, but he managed a smile when he looked at them. “We’ll get it sorted, boys,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

 

As they walked away, Gwil heard Freddie say, “We might need Miami’s help.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 1st, 2017**

 

Roger was close to ripping his hair out. They’d gotten onto the Fox executives and told them everything; hell, other members of the crew complained too...And Fox hadn’t heard from Singer either. He hadn’t answered any of their calls, emails or texts. They’d summoned him to their offices again and again, intending to fire him...And nothing. They sent someone to his house and there was no answer. As far as the man had been able to tell, Singer wasn’t even home. That set alarm bells ringing; they were going to call the police and report him missing until they got a hold of his mother. She reported that Singer was perfectly fine: as far as she knew he’d left for London again.

 

But there was still no sign of him.

 

And to top it all off, the press had gotten wind of production being halted. He woke up to Sarina reading an article on her phone, biting her lip.

 

“Rog, darling,” she said slowly. “You’re not going to like this.”

 

She showed him. She was right: he hated it. The article reported that Singer was MIA, that production had halted...It even suggested the plug might be pulled on the movie. It spoke of Singer arguing with the cast and crew, it brought up all the legal allegations against him and ended with  _ “One is left wondering if the cast and crew are safe, given Singer’s past- and rather infamous temper.” _

 

Shit. If they got wind of this latest scandal the internet would blow up. Rami wouldn’t get a second’s peace.

 

“Damn it,” he groaned. “How do they  _ always  _ find out?”

 

“They have a super power for being annoying,” Sarina said. She kissed his cheek. “You’d better head down to the set. I’m sure no one’s happy right now.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sarina was right yet again: no one was happy when he arrived. Miami was speaking with the assistant directors, and the cinematographers, keeping everyone calm, trying to figure out who could take charge in the meantime. Eventually, it was decided that Newton would take charge of the film until everything was sorted out.

 

“I can’t believe Singer’s nerve,” Deacy said. He was in a rotten mood; opening and closing doors with too much force, frowning and snapping at everyone. “How long has it been since we dealt with someone like him? You’d swear we’re in the 70s again!”

 

“At least Foster and Sheffield always turned up to work,” Brian said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Always a silver lining,” Freddie snorted. He pushed his food around his plate, but he’d yet to actually eat at all. “Well, Miami says Fox is looking for Singer’s replacement. It’s just a matter of getting hold of the bastard and firing him.”

 

“It can’t happen soon enough,” Roger said. He felt wound up, tense as a spring and ready to fight. At the same time, he felt exhausted. Why did everything have to be such a  _ drama?  _ Why couldn’t they just have been given a nice, professional director right from the start? If Fox were so wary of hiring Singer in the first place, why had they done it at all?

 

He supposed it was just their luck that Singer turned up the next day- and everything went to hell.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 2nd, 2017**

 

Maeve had come along with Luke and Emily to the set; all three of them were going to be in the background of today’s scenes; a montage of  _ Queen’s  _ early concerts and the  _ Killer Queen  _ performance at the BBC.  _ Queen  _ themselves would be in the background of at the BBC as well, and at EMI; they were filming the band quitting, which Maeve looked forward to watching. The idea of her tiny little Papa chucking a rock through a window never failed to make her laugh.

 

She wasn’t prepared for Singer to be there. She stopped dead and grabbed Emily’s wrist.

 

“Emily, you see him too right?” she asked. “I’m not just sleep deprived?”

 

“Looks like he’s finally come out of hiding,” Emily sighed. “This isn’t going to end well.”

 

Emily was right about that. Singer acted like he’d never vanished at all. He was instantly snapping at his assistant- Christ, what was her name again? Vera? Velma? She’d never actually introduced herself- and he was marching about like he owned the place. Instantly, he was yelling at Newton for taking charge while he was gone.

 

“What did you  _ expect? _ ” Newton shouted. “You just vanished! We have  _ work  _ to do! We’re behind schedule as it is, but then you just kept fucking off!”

 

“My mother was ill,” Singer snapped.

 

_ “Bullshit!”  _

 

Singer looked ready to hit Newton, but he also seemed to realise that no one was going to back him up: everyone was glaring at him, clearly on Newton’s side. Luke edged closer to Deacy, glancing at Singer nervously. 

 

Then Singer spotted Rami.

 

Rami was standing by the stage with Lucy; they both looked nervous, but Rami even more so.

 

“Lazing about again, Malek?” Singer snapped, making his way over. 

 

This time, rather than ducking his head and fleeing, Rami clenched his fists and stood tall. “That’s rich coming from you,” he said with admirable calm. Maeve had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Emily was openly gaping.

 

Singer paused, wrong footed. He quickly recovered. “What did you just say to me?” he hissed.

 

“You heard me,” Rami said. “You can’t lecture anyone about being lazy, not when you vanish all the time or turn up late.  _ God,  _ do you even care about this film? Everyone here  _ hates  _ you! Fox want to get rid of you, or did you not get the memo? There’s an executive coming  _ today. _ ”

 

His words actually seemed to be getting through; Singer was going pale.

 

Rami flicked his long wig over his shoulders, glaring Singer down. “So how about actually going your job for once?” he snapped. “You know, while you still have one.”

 

Something in Singer snapped. He flushed red, his eyes darkened, he was snarling. Maeve could  _ feel  _ the fury radiating off him.

 

“I don’t take orders from whores like you!” he yelled. He grabbed a light stand and, before anyone could stop him, before anyone could even shout a warning, he threw the light stand at Rami. It sailed across the room, missing his head by inches to crash into the wall.

 

Everyone froze. The whole room was silent. 

 

Then everyone jumped into action.

 

Lucy threw Rami behind her, Gwil, Brian and Miami grabbed Singer to drag him away. Everyone was shouting.

 

“What the hell is  _ wrong  _ with you!?” Deacy yelled.

 

“You could have knocked him out!” one of the assistant directors screamed; he looked ill. Singer thrashed against them, nearly knocking Miami to the floor. She wasn’t surprised when Roger punched Singer straight on the nose; the sudden blood flow just caused people to scream even more.

 

And in the midst of it all was Rami. Ben, Joe, Lucy and Freddie were trying to calm him down; he’d gone pale as a sheet, gasping for breath and crying. She was no stranger to panic attacks, not when her own Papa had them, not when her wife had them throughout her teenage years...But watching one never got easier. She left Luke and Emily and ran over to her Papa.

 

“It’s okay, darling,” Freddie said, running his thumbs back and forth over Rami’s knuckles. “Deep breaths, lovie, it’s okay. You’re safe, I promise.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Rami sobbed, eyes squeezed shut. “I-I didn’t mean- I didn’t think he’d...Oh God, I-I...think I’m g-gonna be s-sick.”

 

“Right, come on,” Freddie said. “And no offence to the rest of you, but  _ no Alphas. _ ” He ignored Lucy and Ben’s protests as he ushered Rami away, Maeve and Joe hot on their heels.

 

Well, it wasn’t like she could follow them into the bathroom. She paced up and down anxiously; it didn’t  _ sound  _ like Rami was getting sick at least. 

 

That was where Deacy found her. She was still pacing anxiously. She quickly explained what was going on and he knocked on the door.

 

“Everything okay, boys?” he called. “I think Maeve’s going to wear a hole in the floor at this rate.”

 

“Coming,” Joe called- and sure enough, the door opened. Rami still looked pale, his breathing was still a little too quick, but at least his eyes were open, at least he seemed calmer.

 

“We’re going to Ram’s trailer,” Joe said.

 

“No Alphas?” Deacy said knowingly. Freddie nodded. “No Alphas,” her Papa said. And Maeve got it- it was a simple enough trick. An Alpha had caused Rami such distress, it made sense to keep him  _ away  _ from Alphas until he’d calmed down. Admittedly, she still felt bad for Gwil, Lucy and Ben, but if it calmed Rami down faster who could really complain?

 

So she followed them to Rami’s trailer, nibbling at her nails. 

 

Rami slumped against Freddie as soon as he sat down; Freddie held him close, running a hand through Rami’s hair. Another thing Maeve got; maybe she was just biased, but in her opinion Freddie gave the best hugs of all time. People could say it was just an Omega’s instinct to nurture all they wanted, but Maeve would insist to her dying day that Freddie was  _ just  _ that good. He always seemed to know what to do to calm someone down.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rami mumbled again, shutting his eyes. He looked ready to fall asleep. “I messed up.”

 

“No you didn’t,” Freddie said gently. “Not at all.”

 

“Singer’s the one who messed up,” Joe said firmly. “He messed up again and again. That has  _ nothing  _ to do with you; it’s all on him.”

 

“When’s that executive due to arrive?” Maeve asked.

 

“Around twelve,” Deacy said. Maeve nodded; the executive should arrive to finally fire Singer in an hour. About time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Gwil watched as they finally wrestled Singer into a chair. Everyone was red in the face and out of breath. Poor Miami was clutching his side where Singer had hit him.

 

Singer’s nose was still bleeding and part of Gwil took sadistic pleasure from it.

 

Ben came running. “What’s happening?” he asked frantically. “Freddie and Joe took Rami away to calm down, but they’re insisting no Alphas go near Rami until he calms down.”

 

“Hate to admit it, but that makes sense,” Gwil sighed.

 

“So, what’s happening?” Ben repeated.

 

“Brian says Singer will be gone within the hour,” Gwil said. “That’s when the executive is due to arrive. Apparently they already have a replacement lined up.”

 

_ “Finally,”  _ Ben groaned. He tugged at his hair, face screwed up like he was trying not to cry. “God, that...that light nearly hit Rami’s  _ head. _ ”

 

Gwil could only nod. It kept repeating in his mind; that light had missed Rami’s head by  _ inches.  _ If it had hit him…

 

He glared at Singer over his shoulder; a bloody nose was too damn good for him. He hoped it was broken.

 

“We’ll be okay,” Gwil said. “He’ll be gone by the end of the day and we’ll never have to deal with him again.”

 

All he could do now was wait until they were allowed to see Rami; all he could do now was pray the new director actually cared about the film and would actually do his job. 

 

“Guys!” came Joe’s voice. He was standing across the set and waving at them frantically. “Come on! Rami’s asking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singer's finally gone lads! We can finally move onto some happier content.


	12. Rami: Radio Gaga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new director arrives; the boys enjoy their day off and discuss the upcoming scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Live Aid day!  
> Also: what the heck is going on with this plan to storm Area 51? I went to sleep, woke up and suddenly the internet was swarmed with alien memes. (Granted, I haven't laughed this hard in a while, so thank you.)

**_“So don't become some background noise, a backdrop for the girls and boys who just don't know, or just don't care, and just complain when you're not there. You had your time, you had the power. You've yet to have your finest hour.” -Radio Gaga,_ ** **Queen**

 

It was a rare, blessed day off. Their new director, Dexter Fletcher had arrived and asked to meet with them all, but after that they had a free day.

 

“First off, I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with so much trouble so far,” Dexter said right away. He was another Alpha (no surprises there), but with his big glasses and floppy hair, he looked much friendlier than Singer had. “Second of all, I believe we’ll be moving onto Ridge Farm in a few days, right?”

 

“Right,” Newton said with a nod. They’d found the perfect farm to use; Rami had seen the pictures and it sure  _ looked  _ rustic enough. Dexter nodded with a little smile.

 

“Now, we’ll have a lot of fun scenes to do at the farm,” Dexter said. “Like a certain cupboard scene…” Everyone turned to smirk at Roger.

 

“Fuck off,” Roger said cheerfully. John was making no effort to hide his chuckles.

 

“But we’ll also have some tough scenes,” Dexter continued. “So I’m thinking...If anyone who’s uncomfortable with the upcoming assault scene wants to stay off set, you’re welcome to do so.” His cautious eyes went to Freddie; Freddie only offered a small smile and shrug. “Otherwise, that one isn’t closed set. However, the sex scene between Jim and Freddie  _ will  _ be closed set. I agree it’s a good idea to keep the audience to a minimum when it comes to nude scenes.” 

 

Both Rami and Aaron let out a sigh of relief at that, exchanging shy smiles.

 

Dexter looked around at the assembled group and smiled. “It’ll be tough work trying to get back on schedule, but if we keep giving it our all I think we can manage it. Tomorrow we have the film’s opening scenes- Dazmen, Freddie running away, what have you- we have Roger suggesting marking Freddie, the band’s meeting with Reid and the  _ ‘I Want To Break Free’  _ music video _.  _ It’ll be a long day.  So: you’re all free today, as you know. Rest up, take a breather and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Rami and the other three lingered outside in the street. It was bloody freezing out and the dark clouds didn’t look promising.

 

“Well, we’ve a free day,” Ben said. “And the weather’s shit. So, here’s an idea; we order pizza, we make a shit tonne of popcorn, we get our comfiest clothes and have a movie marathon on Netflix.”

 

“Yes please,” Joe said. “I’m so tired.”

 

“No horror movies,” Rami said.

 

“No promises,” Ben said with a wink. Gwil pushed them all along.

 

“Let’s just get going before it starts to lash, yeah?”

 

It seemed Gwil tempted faith: they’d no sooner reached Gwil’s car that buckets of rain poured down.

 

“That’s your fault,” Joe said.

 

“Shut up, Joe.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ben really had the best ideas. Rami would have to remember to tell him sometime.

 

They gathered at Gwil’s house (after stopping to collect their own night things) and curled up in a pillow-and-blanket pile on the ground, scoffing pizza and popcorn, and watching the best movies they could find.

 

“Dexter seems alright,” Gwil said, half-way through the second movie. “I mean, it was good of him to keep all the nude scenes closed set.”

 

“Yeah, he didn’t have to be bullied into it,” Rami scoffed.

 

“And how about you two?” Joe asked with a smirk. “You’ve got that marking scene tomorrow. How’re you feeling?”

 

“Not too bothered,” Ben said, shrugging. “I won’t even be kissing his neck, the scene cuts off there.”

 

“Yeah, you don’t have to kiss  _ yet, _ ” Joe teased. Rami took another gulp of Coke to hide his smirk. 

 

Right. Kissing. That was  _ another  _ thing he wasn’t sure how to do with those fake teeth. He’d figure it out, he knew that, but it was still irritating to work around. He had to kiss Aaron, obviously, and he had to kiss Allen (or more accurately, Allen was kissing  _ him,  _ he wasn’t expected to do much in that scene) and he had to kiss Ben- or, to be completely factual, Ben had to storm over, grab him and kiss him for "Foster's" benefit.

 

He remembered watching a documentary about their fake relationship, and what they’d had to do to convince EMI they were legit...

 

_ “Oh God, I didn’t even warn him I was going to do that,” Roger laughed on screen. It was footage from the late 90s for sure; his hair was starting to grey at the temples and there were lines around his eyes. “I’d overheard Prenter trying to convince Foster we were lying and I just- I panicked. I knew if they could prove we were lying somehow...That’d be it. Foster and Sheffield would hand Freddie off to some Alpha, or they’d take him for themselves. And, well, I couldn’t let them...But I couldn’t find Freddie either to tell him, so…” _

 

_ The footage cut to Freddie; he was laughing.  _

 

_ “We were all in the lobby of EMI and Roger just- just calls my name, he yells ‘Hey, Freddie!’ and when I turned around he kissed me.” Freddie threw his head back, hands over his mouth as he laughed. “My immediate instinct was to knee him in the balls, but I was too shocked to do anything. I just let him.” _

 

_ The interviewer, off screen, asked; “And how did everyone react?” _

 

_ “Oh, Deacy dropped his sandwich,” Freddie said with a bright grin. “Brian looked like someone had given him a whack on the head, he just looked totally stunned.” _

 

_ The footage cut back to Roger. _

 

_ “Prenter went so  _ red,  _ I thought he was about to have a heart attack there and then.” Roger huffed. “I half-hoped he  _ would. _ ” _

 

_ “And Foster?” _

 

_ “He turned to Prenter and I heard him say, ‘Oh yeah, they’re faking. Keep your jealousy to yourself, it’s not getting us anywhere.’” _

 

_ The interviewer sounded surprised when he said, “Decent of him.” _

 

_ But Roger shook his head. “Nah. If Foster could have made money out of it, he’d have let Prenter run wild. It was just that Prenter was annoying him, and he thought Prenter just wanted to shag Freddie himself- which he did, and which wouldn’t earn Foster and Sheffield any extra cash, now would it?” _

 

_ Once more, the footage cut back to Freddie. He was smiling coyly, one hand lingering near his mouth. _

 

_ “He was a good kisser, I’ll give him that,” Freddie said. _

 

_ And back to Roger. _

 

_ “Sod off, I was fantastic!” _

 

With that in mind, Rami turned to Ben. “You’re not worried at all?” he asked.

 

“Nah,” Ben said, waving a dismissive hand. “I mean- it’s just work, and we’re mates. It’s not like I’m stuck kissing someone I don’t get on with,  _ that  _ would be rotten.”

 

Rami nodded. Really, the fact that they were friends  _ did  _ help a little.

 

“So, we seem to have a nice director,” Gwil said. “He has a good schedule going, even if it  _ is  _ going to be exhausting...But really, the only other really hard scene we have is…”

 

“The miscarriage,” Rami said quietly. On instinct, his hand went to his stomach. He’d never been pregnant and had no plans to change that any time soon, but the idea still sent a shiver of horror down his spine. He was pretty sure Freddie was going to sit that one out, and Rami didn’t blame him. He didn’t even want to ask about it if he was honest.

 

“But that’s not for a while,” Joe said, clearly trying to force some optimism back into the room. “Tomorrow’s a long day, but nothing too challenging, right?”

 

“Right,” Rami agreed.

 

“I can finally be Rogerina,” Ben said with a smug smile.

 

“Oh God, I have to wear that fucking  _ bonnet! _ ” Joe cried, looking horrified.

 

“Did you see how many layers  _ I  _ have to wear?” Rami asked, throwing a handful of popcorn at Joe. “It’s ridiculous.”

 

“My costume is so  _ ugly, _ ” Gwil moaned. “And those hair curlers!”

 

“Thank God times have changed, huh?” Ben said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Imagine if Omegas were still forced to wear all that crap.”

 

“Well, in some countries we still are,” Rami pointed out. The others nodded, slightly uncomfortable. Rami quite knew the feeling. It wasn’t pleasant to dwell on.

 

“At least we can have some fun with it,” Joe said. 

 

“Singer’s finally gone, I got to watch Roger punch him, we’re finally making some progress and I can’t  _ wait  _ until we reach the  _ ‘We Will Rock You’  _ scene,” Ben said. He mimed the stomp-stomp-clap with a smirk. “It’s gonna be so good.”

 

“Okay, yeah, I’m definitely looking forward to that one,” Gwil said with a grin.

 

“Of course you are, you’re playing the guy that wrote it,” Rami snorted.

 

“And I can’t wait to watch Ben climb into a cupboard,” Joe said, batting his eyelashes with faux innocence.

  
“Fuck  _ off, _ ” Ben said, but he was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeehhh, getting a little snippet of what to expect from Roger and Freddie's fake relationship 😉  
> And here's the thing; I have a few snippets with Theo planned out, but they don't seem to quite fit the flow of this story, so I'll either put them right at the end, or I'll put them in a separate vignette story of their own. Sound good?
> 
> Still to come in this series:  
> 1) well, the rest of these chapters of course  
> 2) Jim gushing over Freddie  
> 3) Roger and Freddie's fake relationship  
> 4) More Theo maybe??  
> 5) the finale!


	13. Ben and Roger: This Is Gospel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ridge Farm scenes are here at last. Ben's nervous- Roger's even more so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said Roger would likely have to be escorted off set a few times? Yeah...Get ready for that.

**_“If you love me let me go. If you love me let me go. 'Cause these words are knives that often leave scars. (The fear of falling apart.) And truth be told, I never was yours. (The fear, the fear of falling apart.) Oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart.” -This Is Gospel,_ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

 

“You’re sure?” Rami asked quietly, drumming his fingers on his knees.

 

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Ben said; they kept glancing at each other and looking away.

 

“Bri and Deacy will know,” Rami said.

 

“Trust me, they’ll be fine with it if it means keeping Prenter off you.” Gently, Ben lay Rami back on the bed; his breathing wavered slightly as he ran a finger down Rami’s neck. “And  _ you’re  _ sure?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Rami whispered, and Ben brushed Rami’s wig off his neck as he leaned down.

 

_ “Cut!” _

 

Ben sat back, pulling Rami up; Dexter was nodding with a small, pleased smile.

 

“Perfect,” he said. “Take ten, boys.”

 

Roger turned to Freddie with a grin.

 

“Was that weird or what?” he asked. If you asked him the whole thing had looked a little  _too_ sexually charged, but maybe that was just the lighting and camera angles. Or maybe they were sexualising it too much. Either way, watching such a scene from an outsider's perspective had been  _odd._

 

“It was a little strange,” Freddie admitted. “But they  _ did  _ do a good job.” He glanced at Roger and sighed. “Paul’s assault is coming up soon,” he said. “You’re  _ sure  _ you won’t freak out?”

 

Roger knew for a fact that Jim was staying home that day; he’d openly admitted he was sure he’d lose his temper. Freddie had outright forbidden Maeve from attending. Roger wasn’t totally sure about his own temper. He wanted to think he’d stay calm, but how could he really promise that?

 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I’ll try my best. And you? Think you can handle it?”

 

“I think so,” Freddie said. His eyes flickered to their actors as he added, “At least we know  _ this  _ director will call cut if anyone panics.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The set was finally ready, the Ridge Farm scenes could begin. They had to do about five takes of the cupboard scene because everyone kept laughing so hard, but in the end everyone was satisfied.

 

“It’s bloody hot in there,” Ben complained as he crawled out of the cupboard. The sight set off Joe and Rami laughing again. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled as a wheezing Gwil helped him to his feet.

 

“You look great,” Gwil teased; he looked far too happy. Ben didn’t need a mirror to know he looked like shit; his wig was all tangled, his clothes were rumpled and he felt disgustingly sweaty. It really was hot in that cupboard.

 

At least it was lunch break, he could do a quick clean up. But first things first…

 

“Roger!” he called, running after the older Alpha. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Roger said. They went outside, sitting on one of the walls. It really was a pretty farm, but by god there was nothing to see or do for  _ miles.  _ If it weren’t for how busy they were (and the surprisingly good wifi signal) Ben would be going nuts.

 

“So...We’re filming that scene with Prenter later tonight,” Ben began. “And I just...I’ll be honest, I’m a bit worried I’ll lose it.”

 

“Me too,” Roger said. He looked around with a little frown. “It’s funny. It doesn’t look  _ that  _ much like Ridge Farm but the memories are all coming flooding back.”

 

“It wasn’t all bad here,” Ben said. Roger nodded. “But it ended badly.” Roger nodded again, frowning harder.

 

“I’d never been so scared before,” Roger said. “I was upstairs, I was starting to drift off when I heard Freddie just...just  _ scream.  _ He called for me, Brian and Deacy but it was me he screamed for first.” He let out a shaky laugh. “My heart was in my throat, you know? I’d never heard Freddie scream like that before...Or since.”

 

“Any advice?” Ben asked.

 

“Don’t let your instincts get the better of you,” Roger said. “Remember, Rami’s not actually in danger; he’s safe and sound. It’s just acting. No one will be hurt. Chances are that your Alpha instincts will start screaming at you to protect Rami, they’ll try and convince you Allen’s actually a threat-  _ don’t listen. _ ”

 

Ben nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “...Will you be okay?”

 

“We’ll see,” Roger said with a sigh. “Fred and Brimi think I should wait outside.”

 

“And John?”

 

“He thinks I should at least try. Says it’ll be fine- and like I said, it  _ will  _ be, but…” He shook his head, slouching slightly. “It’s just...So shit remembering how bad things were back then. Prenter came so close to getting what he wanted.”

 

Ben gulped, wondering if he dared ask.

 

“...What if he had?” he forced himself to ask. “What would you have done?”

 

Roger looked him straight in the eye.

 

“I would have killed him.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t all heavy and scary; after filming the cuddle pile they moved onto filming Rami beginning  _ “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  _ It was a short, sweet scene: Rami sat in a window seat, humming to himself as he scribbled. The opening notes to  _ “Bohemian Rhapsody”  _ could just be heard in the background. As Rami tore a sheet of paper out of his notebook and crumpled it, the music momentarily stopped. He frowned down at the notebook, tapping his pencil on the page, biting his lip. Roger had to hold back a smile at the sight- he really was the spitting image of Freddie right then.

 

And then Rami’s expression changed from frustrated to happy. Determined. Grinning to himself, he started to rapidly write; the music started up again, growing in volume.

 

_ “Mama, life had just begun…”  _ he murmured.

 

“Freddie?” Joe poked his head around the door- Rami jumped, nearly dropping the book, the music abruptly stopped. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

“Oh, right,” Rami said with a sheepish smile. He closed the notebook and jumped off the window seat and-

 

_ “Cut!” _

 

Sure, it didn’t add much to the story, but Roger liked it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


What Roger  _ didn’t  _ like was the next scene. Prenter’s attempted assault.

 

As filming started, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

 

They had a mattress on the ground for Rami to fall onto, then they’d pause, move it out of the way and resume filming. Allen wasn’t Paul, he was a sweet kid. Hell, he wasn't even an Alpha, he was a Beta. No one was going to get hurt.

 

And yet all Roger could think of was that night, how close Prenter had been to raping Freddie, how if one little thing had gone differently, Prenter would have managed it. He remembered tackling Prenter to the ground and beating him bloody, screaming at him to die; he remembered his instincts going haywire, he remembered wanting to kill Prenter there and then.

 

Even now, he was sure he would have killed him, if Brian hadn’t stopped him.

 

That petrified scream of  _ “ROGER! BRI, DEACY!”  _ echoed in his head, over and over. 

 

Freddie had screamed for  _ him. _

 

He snapped out of it as Rami and Allen walked in; unlike Freddie, who’d been in his pyjamas, Rami was fully dressed, albeit barefoot. He wore a tight orange shirt and black pants, and a silver bangle slid up and down his arm, a matching silver necklace hung loose, nearly reaching his chest.

 

“Are you okay, darling?” Freddie asked, squeezing his hand.

 

“I should be asking  _ you  _ that,” Roger said.

 

“You’re the one who looks ready to hit something,” Freddie said. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” Roger said firmly, with a confidence he simply didn’t feel. They were nearly finished setting up and all he could hear was  _ “ROGER! BRI, DEACY!” _

 

He’d be fine. He had to be fine. It was  _ decades  _ ago.

 

_ “ROGER! BRI, DEACY!” _

 

If Freddie could handle it, so could he.

 

_ “ROGER!” _

 

Christ, he didn’t want to hear Freddie screaming.

 

_ “ROGER!” _

 

Wait, no, it was  _ Rami  _ not Freddie. Freddie was fine.

 

_ “ROGER!” _

 

They were  _ both  _ fine. He was okay, Freddie was okay.

 

He was okay.

 

“Action!”

 

Wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be finished by tomorrow, I promise!


	14. Roger and Freddie: Dance With The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger just barely holds it together during Paul's assault scene; he and Freddie have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so my nanny is STILL in hospital since they can't seem to figure out what's wrong with her. I've been with her most of this morning and I'll likely be down there with her this evening; if that's the case the next chapter should be tomorrow. Otherwise, fingers crossed, it'll be tonight.  
> As always, thanks for reading and thanks for your patience ❤

**_“Trembling, crawling across my skin. Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine. I believe in you. I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies. I won't last long, in this world so wrong.” -Dance With The Devil,_ ** **Breaking Benjamin**

 

Roger tried to breathe through the sudden panic: he tried to remind himself that Freddie was standing right next to him. Freddie wasn’t in danger,  _ no one  _ was in danger. Prenter was  _ dead.  _

 

But as he watched Allen walk over to Rami it was hard to remember all that.

 

Rami shied away from Allen, still scribbling on the paper in front of him. Allen loomed over him, and it terrified Roger how he’d perfected Prenter’s possessive stare.

 

Finally, Rami looked up at Allen. He smiled awkwardly and stood up, backing away.

 

“I’d better get to-”

 

Allen grabbed him and kissed him roughly, holding him tightly; one hand gripped Rami’s hair, the other lowered to his ass and squeezed, pressing him flat against Prenter- no, against  _ Allen.  _ It was  _ Rami,  _ not Freddie.

 

Next to him, Freddie shuddered, glancing away.

 

“You okay?” Brian whispered.

 

“It’s...Uncomfortable,” Freddie said, which was a fucking understatement.  _ Uncomfortable.  _ It was  _ horrible.  _

 

He watched, feeling vaguely lightheaded, as Rami pushed Allen off him.

 

“Don’t you  _ dare, _ ” he hissed, glaring up at him. “You- I’m going to bed. Leave me alone.”

 

He turned to walk away; Allen growled and suddenly shoved him. Rami fell harmlessly onto the mattress, but Freddie hadn’t. He’d landed on the hardwood floor, Prenter had slammed his head on the floor when Freddie screamed.

 

One little difference and they might not have heard Freddie scream. Freddie might not have gotten the chance to scream at all.

 

It had kept Roger up at night for over a week, and it had messed with Freddie’s head for even longer. Once the shock wore off, the fear sank in. He became convinced it was his fault, that he’d done something wrong. Prenter’s last words to him-  _ “Omegas are meant to shut up and spread their legs when they’re told to,” _ \- had lingered in his mind for a long time. He’d considered changing his entire stage persona, dropping the flirtatious act and finding something else, toning it down, hiding. He became paranoid that was all anyone who flirted with him wanted- just a quick shag, not  _ him.  _

 

The worst part, Roger thought, was how many Alphas they met that thought like Prenter. The amount of Alphas that drove Prenter’s points home, that convinced Freddie he was better off being alone, if no one actually wanted him. The amount of Alphas that just wanted bragging rights, that just wanted a pretty little doll, made Roger want to throw up. It had taken a lot of late-night talks to remind Freddie that Roger, Brian and Deacy wanted him; that Phoebe and Joe wanted him, Mary wanted him, Miami wanted him, Elton wanted him, Kashmira, Bomi and Jer wanted him.

 

Roger had been so suspicious of Jim at first, but he’d been  _ so  _ glad to be proven wrong.

 

He snapped out of his reverie when he heard Allen say, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He was straddling Rami; they’d yet to start filming again, but Allen was already apologising for what came next.

 

Rami, lying flat on his back, was clearly biting back laughter at Allen’s frantic apologies, but then Dexter called for them to start and they snapped into character.

 

Suddenly, Allen didn’t look like Allen. He seemed to grow, he suddenly looked as tall as Prenter had been. Rami suddenly looked terrified and Allen swooped down to kiss him again, holding Rami's wrists tightly, pinning his hands to the floor; he could hear Rami’s muffled whimpers, saw him struggling to push Allen off with no luck. 

 

He was dimly aware of Brian biting on his own fist to hold a groan back. Deacy looked sick and Freddie...He couldn’t seem to look away; his eyes were wide, but dimmed,  _ vague,  _ like he wasn’t really seeing anything at all.

 

Roger could feel a growl growing in his chest, he could feel his hands starting to shake.

 

Then, as Allen’s lips trailed down his neck, Rami  _ screamed. _

 

_ “ROGER! BRI, DEACY!” _

 

_ Roger sat bolt upright; he’d just been drifting off when Freddie’s scream shattered the silence. Almost on auto-pilot he jumped out of bed, running downstairs, pushing Brian out of his way. _

 

_ Deacy came running from the basement. “Was that Fred?” he asked frantically. Roger didn’t stop to answer. That scream had come from the dining room, the one with the piano in it; he heard a thumping noise, and he slammed the door open so hard the paintings on the walls shook. _

 

_ Freddie was groaning in pain on the ground, Prenter was on top of him, one hand tight on Freddie’s neck. _

 

_ With a shout of rage, Roger pounced. _

 

“Roger? Rog!”

 

He blinked and the world came back into focus; Deacy had him by the shoulders, eyes wide with concern. Roger was growling, low and long; his fists were clenched, his chest hurt; he wanted to run over there and drag Allen off Fred- no,  _ Rami.  _

 

_ Freddie. _

 

One glance showed him that Freddie was  _ not  _ okay. He still had that awful vague look in his eyes; even when Ben, Gwil and Joe ran in, he just looked so spaced-out, so small...He was shaking, his breathing sounded raspy to Roger’s ears and that was  _ it. _

 

He grabbed Freddie by the wrist and dragged him outside, still growling.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Roger! Roggie, stop!”

 

Freddie tried pulling away, but it was like Roger didn’t even hear him. He just continued to pull Freddie after him and his grip  _ hurt.  _ He could barely move his hand with how tightly Roger was holding onto him.

 

“Roger? Freddie?” Brian came running after them, Deacy at his heels. “Are you okay?”

 

Roger was still growling, teeth bared at an invisible threat. His grip tightened impossibly, twisting Freddie's wrist.

 

“Roggie, you’re  _ hurting  _ me!” Freddie cried and that seemed to do the trick. Roger blinked, the light came back into his eyes; he looked at his hand gripping Freddie. He winced and released it quickly, like he’d been burned. Freddie’s wrist was red when he let go- frankly it was throbbing.

 

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Roger gasped, horrified and Freddie rubbed at his wrist, rotating it slowly.

 

He’d been freaked out back there, but it seemed like Roger was even  _ worse.  _ He looked seconds away from crying or hitting someone.

 

If Freddie was honest it made  _ him  _ want to cry, but he held his arms out and said, “Rog, darling, come here.”

 

With a choked little noise that sounded worryingly like a sob, Roger flung himself into Freddie’s arms, so hard that Freddie stumbled back a step. He guided Roger’s head down to the bond mark on his neck, right where his scent was strongest. Roger breathed deeply, losing some of the tension in his shoulders. His grip was starting to hurt again, but Freddie kept quiet.

 

“It’s okay, darling,” he said. “I’m right here, see? I’m fine. Paul’s dead, he’s been dead for a long time. Rami and Allen are just  _ acting,  _ no one’s going to get hurt.”

 

“But you  _ were, _ ” Roger mumbled, nosing at Freddie’s neck; he tilted his head back, allowing for better access and threw Brian and Deacy a helpless look. Deacy shuffled nervously, but Brian rested a hand on Roger’s back.

 

“Rog, it was  _ years  _ ago,” Brian said gently. “You  _ did  _ protect Freddie, remember? I had to literally drag you off Prenter, for crying out loud!”

 

“But I-”

 

“Roggie,  _ I’m  _ the one who wandered off alone,” Freddie said. “I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions. You can pull the  _ ‘I left you alone’  _ card all you like, but  _ I  _ insisted on staying up, remember? Darling, you  _ did  _ look after me, you’re  _ still  _ doing it. You don’t...You don’t have to keep beating yourself up. Besides, what did we agree on?”

 

Roger was quiet. Freddie nudged him. “Hm? What did we agree?”

 

“That’d we’d protect each other instead,” Roger said reluctantly.

 

“Exactly,” Freddie said. “So let me look after  _ you  _ right now, okay? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

 

“...I kept hearing you screaming,” Roger said. Deacy winced, Brian momentarily closed his eyes, but otherwise stayed steady. “Just...That was all I could think about. I’d never heard you sound that scared before- hell, I don’t think I’ve heard you sound that scared ever since then either.”

 

“I was scared,” Freddie admitted. “But, Rog love,  _ listen:  _ it was forty-two years ago. There’s no point in driving yourself mad over  _ what ifs.  _ I screamed, you all heard me. You got Prenter off me. He didn’t get what he wanted, you protected me, remember? And he’s  _ dead,  _ Roger. He’s not coming back.”

 

“Good riddance,” Deacy spat. Brian nodded teresely; Roger finally lifted his head from Freddie’s neck and sighed.

 

“Yeah, good riddance,” he said. 

 

Freddie stared at him, at how pale he looked, at how damn  _ tired  _ he looked and said, “There’s empty bedrooms upstairs- cuddle pile?”

 

That at least earned him a smile from Roger; Brian rolled his eyes fondly, Deacy relaxed entirely as he nodded.

 

They ducked back into the piano room to quickly tell Dexter they just needed a breather and trooped upstairs.

 

Some things never changed; Roger spooned Freddie, holding on tight, but thankfully not too tight now. Freddie held Deacy to his chest and Brian spooned Deacy.

 

After ten minutes of silence, Brian spoke up; “Everyone okay now?” 

 

“I’m alright,” Deacy said. “You, Brian?”

 

“More tired than I thought I’d be,” Brian admitted with a laugh. “Rog? Fred?”

 

“I’ll be fine after some rest,” Freddie said. He reached back to poke Roger’s face. “Roggie?”

 

A snore was his only answer; Roger had fallen fast asleep.

  
_ Good,  _ Freddie thought.  _ He needs it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way if anyone has any actor/faceclaim recommendations for Joe and Phoebe please lemme know! ❤ And as per usual, if anyone has something they REALLY wanna see, feel free to tell me, I'm always open to suggestions/prompts.


	15. Joe: High Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a lazy morning, Joe ponders his funny little pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some soft content and lore dump. Joe loves his idiots. I love them too.

**December, 2017**   
**_“Had to have high, high hopes for a living. Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing. Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision, always had high, high hopes. Had to have high, high hopes for a living. Didn't know how but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million. Always had high, high hopes.” -High Hopes,_ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

 

Joe woke slowly; to his own surprise, he was the first one awake. Rami was still fast asleep on his chest, fists clutching at Joe’s shirt. Ben was flat on his back, spread out like a star-fish and snoring his head off- it honestly amazed Joe that such a good looking guy could snort like a warthog. One of his arms was crushed under Gwil’s head, the other pressed between Joe’s head and the headboard. Gwil was half on top of Ben, clinging like a koala.

 

There were worse sights to wake up to.

 

They didn’t have much filming left; a few party scenes, _“We Will Rock You,”_ the first meeting between Jim and Freddie, the sex scene, _“Another One Bites The Dust”,_ the miscarriage (which Joe was personally dreading), an interview, and one last cuddle pile. Filming was due to wrap up in January. 

 

And Joe found that he didn’t want to leave these guys.

 

They were his friends; more than that, they felt like _pack,_ like family. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was just being dumb...But look at how quickly they’d all clicked. Look at how close they’d become in such a short space of time. This was the fourth time they’d all spent the night together, curled up in a cuddle pile, in a funny little nest of their own.

 

Ben had jokingly called them _Queen 2.0_ but it didn’t feel like a joke sometimes. They were different people from _Queen_ and yet they’d bonded quickly, in just the same way they had. Their personalities were different, even if their dynamics matched; Joe was louder than John, Ben was calmer than Roger, Rami was quieter than Freddie and Gwil was more stubborn than Brian. They may have looked alike, but they weren’t the same. Their circumstances weren’t the same; they were well known actors, not broke college students. No one would be shocked by the idea of them cuddling Rami, whereas society in the 70s and 80s would have been shocked at Freddie letting two Alphas and a Beta cuddle him, especially when they weren’t related, especially when he wasn’t dating any of them.

 

Or, as society would have put it, he hadn’t been _claimed_ by any of them.

 

Joe had faced problems in the film industry; Betas were still type-casted as side-kicks, as the comic relief, or the dull ones. They weren’t expected to get leading roles, not really. The majority of big name actors were still Alphas. But he’d never truly been made to feel like he was second best, not the way John had. The press didn’t ignore him, or make up an image without talking to him.

 

People may have been surprised by how mellow Ben and Gwil were, but few would call them weak nowadays. They weren’t told they weren’t “real Alphas”- or if they were, they’d been raised to laugh at such comments, not take them to heart. Times had changed; Alphas still had it easier than the rest of them for sure, but Ben and Gwil weren’t the types of flaunt that privilege. They called other Alphas out for shitty behaviour, they seemed almost _proud_ whenever people said they weren’t proper Alphas.

 

And Rami...God, the idea of what he’d have to face if things hadn’t changed made Joe feel sick. After Freddie spoke up, plenty of Omegas in the entertainment industry came forward with similar stories....Or even worse stories. Many were forced to take suppressants, to pretend to be Betas. None of them had equal pay in the 70s; so many _(too many)_ had signed contracts similar to EMI’s without realising what the implications were. _Too damn many_ were raped by executives, by their own managers, by co-workers, by assistants. Too damn many were forced to do an Alpha’s bidding, handed off to highest bidder to earn the Alphas in charge more money, for a bit of entertainment. 

 

If the law hadn’t changed, if such contracts hadn’t been declared a violation of human rights....

 

And God, the roles they were forced into in movies. The sex doll, the bimbo, the rape/murder victim, the slut, the deceiver, the weakling, the one with the shitty attitude who needed to be “tamed” and made “good,” as if they were animals. They were never given leading roles; they were there for eye-candy and nothing more.

 

Which was partially why Joe was so damn proud of his friends. They broke stereotypes, they stood up for themselves, they were leading men; they were playing one of the most famous bands of all time. They broke stereotypes on camera and off camera. Just look at them now! Fast asleep, curled up together, no stupid boundaries or gender roles to hold them back. 

 

Not too long ago- only a hundred years or something? His history was a little hazy- Joe would have been expected to bow his head and address Gwil and Ben respectfully, to not argue with them _ever._ Rami would have been expected to kneel when he greeted them, to rise again only when they allowed it, to address them only as “Alpha” unless instructed otherwise, to keep his eyes downcast when they addressed him and not speak unless spoken to. He’d even have to address Joe as “sir” if you looked far back enough.

 

But now? Now they pranked each other, now they greeted each other cheerfully with “What’s up, dickhead?” They sat on each other’s laps, they demanded piggyback rides, they stole each other’s phones and took dozens of ugly selfies before handing them back. They were _equals._

 

He loved those three so much it was a little ridiculous, but there were the facts. Regardless of the short time frame, these three were pack. He felt like nothing _really_ bad could happen with them around; like they could do anything so long as they stuck together.

 

Joe really couldn’t imagine doing this film with anyone else.

 

He settled down again, not seeing much point in waking the others yet, when Rami’s grip momentarily tightened before slackening. His eyes fluttered open and he peered up at Joe with a sleepy smile.

 

“What time is it?” he murmured, only he was yawning so it sounded more like “Whatimeizzit?”

 

“Nearly ten,” Joe said. “Wanna get up?”

 

“Not yet,” Rami said, snuggling back down again. “We’ve nowhere to be.”

 

“True,” Joe smiled. He ran his hand through Rami’s hair, biting back a laugh at how unruly his curls got overnight. “Hey, Ram?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m really proud of us. Like, all four of us. Is that weird?”

 

“No,” Rami said with a smile. “I am too.”

 

Joe’s smile widened and he wondered if he dared ask. Well, fuck it, right?

 

“I...I keep thinking of you guys as pack,” he admitted. “Is _that_ weird?”

 

“No,” Rami said again, pressing his face against Joe’s chest. “We are.”

 

“Too right,” came Ben’s sleepy response. Joe craned his neck to look at him; the blond Alpha was just _barely_ awake, and didn’t look too happy about it. “We’re pack, you idiots.”

 

“Agreed,” Gwil muttered; he raised his head blearily. “Do we have work today?”

 

“Nope,” Joe said.

 

“Oh thank God.” Gwil flopped back down, snuggling closer against Ben. “Then can we do the big emotional talk later? I love you guys, let’s leave it at that.”

 

“It’s nearly ten,” Joe pointed, laughing.

 

“So?”

 

“The man has a point,” Ben said, closing his eyes again. “So?”

 

“So,” Joe parrotted; Rami muffled his laughter against Joe’s shirt, but they all soon settled down again.

 

 _Pack,_ part of his brain purred, and this time Joe didn’t fight it. _Pack_ indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuddle piles are always a good option.


	16. Rami: It's Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron knows how to make the sex scene less awkward, but after that they've a much more difficult scene to film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some silliness before we move onto the heavier stuff, but TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of miscarriage.

**_“How I could love you, if I could let you stay. It's late and I'm bleeding deep inside. It's late, ooh, is it just my sickly pride? Too late- even now the feeling seems to steal away. (So late.) Though I'm crying I can't help but hear you say it's late, it’s late, it’s late. But not too late.” -It’s Late,_ ** **Queen**

 

Rami had quickly come to the conclusion that sex scenes were _awkward,_ and he was so relieved this was closed set.

 

Nothing against Aaron of course; he was being a total gentleman about it, keeping his eyes on Rami’s face unless totally necessary and quietly asking if Rami was okay or if he needed a break in between takes. After the second take he’d grabbed Rami’s robe for him and helped him into it before seeing to himself.

 

“Not going to lie,” Aaron said as they lounged on the bed. They were back in full costume, waiting as Dexter and the others went over the footage. “I feel so awkward knowing Freddie and Jim are going to watch this.”

 

“I’m sure they feel awkward knowing _Maeve_ will watch this,” Rami pointed out, which set them both off laughing. It helped. Being friends with Aaron really helped settle him; if he’d had to do this with someone he didn’t get on with it would just make things more awkward and uncomfortable, and if Singer were still here Rami would likely end up crying again.

 

“Oh Christ, it makes me glad I don’t have kids yet,” Aaron laughed. He smiled down at Rami. “You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Rami said, nodding. “I’m alright. You?”

 

“Alright.”

 

They’d already done the first meeting between Freddie and Jim. They’d met in a club, everyone knew that; Freddie had knocked into Jim, spilling Jim’s beer everywhere and insisted on buying him a new one. The movie was a little different- they still met in a club, but Jim “pulled a Roger” (as Joe put it) and pretended Freddie was his boyfriend when a pushy Alpha wouldn’t leave him alone. They’d both admitted they didn’t have sex that first night, but in the movie they did.

 

“Boys?” Dexter poked his head around the door. “We’re gonna need another take.”

 

Rami and Aaron both rolled their eyes, but it had to be done.

  
  
  
  
  


In the club they played the ending of _“Another One Bites The Dust”,_ transitioning from the band’s rehearsal. As Aaron lifted Rami and carried him upstairs they played _“It’s Late.”_

 

They had to make out the whole way up the stairs; the first time they’d done it, Aaron tripped and dropped Rami just as they reached the landing. It had resulted in frantic apologies, while Rami lay there, laughing and trying not to yelp in pain. They checked him over for any bumps and bruises and continued.

 

The second take they were told they weren’t quite _passionate_ enough. Fair enough, they’d been hesitant. 

 

After the third take they wanted to try new camera angles and rearrange the lighting, though they were told their acting was perfect and to “Please do that again.” Yeah, good luck with that.

 

During the fourth take, Aaron came in with a bright yellow sock on his dick, and they had to wait for Rami to stop laughing to continue filming. They couldn’t judge; most of the crew was laughing too. 

 

“You look very professional,” Rami laughed; Aaron fucking _winked_ and finger-gunned. 

 

Really, being friends made all the difference.

 

Finally, the fifth take was declared “Perfect!” and they could move onto the morning-after. The music faded, all was silent as they “woke up.” They didn’t move; they lay there, tangled together and talking.

 

“I’m a hairdresser,” Aaron said with a little shrug. “Not the most exciting job in the world, but you do meet some interesting people. And you?”

 

Rami peered up at him, smiling. “You really have no idea, do you?” he asked.

 

“Should I?”

 

“I’m a singer,” he said. “I’m in a band, _Queen._ ”

 

Aaron looked blank and Rami’s grin widened.

 

“I don’t think I know it,” Aaron said apologetically. “Sorry, I-” He stopped when Rami pressed a finger against his lips.

 

“Don’t be,” Rami said softly. “It’s a good thing.” After a pause, he said brightly, “So- breakfast?” Aaron nodded and Rami slipped out of the bed. As he pulled the bright, silky kimono on he caught Aaron sitting up and staring at him in the mirror.

 

“What?” he asked with another laugh. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Aaron said quietly; he almost sounded in awe. He sounded perfectly like Jim Hutton in most documentaries.

 

Rami ducked his head, tying the kimono tightly, trying to hide his smile.

 

“Shut up,” he said; his voice came out sweet and quiet. The cameras zoomed in on Aaron’s smile and-

 

_“Cut!”_

 

“Brilliant,” Dexter said with a pleased nod. “Go on ahead to lunch you two, we’ll call you back if we need another take.”

 

And if they didn’t need another take they’d be filming the miscarriage next.

 

Rami found himself suddenly hoping they’d need another take.

 

No such luck; Dexter found them and told them they had more than enough to work with for the sex scene. Rami’s smile faded, Joe tensed, Gwil fiddled with his knife and fork, avoiding eye contact; Ben sighed, his shoulders slumped.

 

“Where’s Freddie?” Rami asked John later, as he came out of the hair and make-up department.

 

“He’s staying in the living area,” John said with an apologetic smile, though there was nothing to be sorry for. Rami didn’t blame Freddie for wanting to stay out of this one. It had traumatised him for years.

 

“Is he okay?” Rami asked.

 

“He’s fine,” John said, though he didn’t sound totally convinced. “What about you, Rami? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m nervous,” he admitted. “I...It sounds awful. I didn’t have the nerve to ask Freddie about it, I didn’t want to upset him, you know? But...I have no idea what I’m _doing._ ” He shrugged helplessly and added. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

 

John nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “Well, the rest of us will be there,” he said. “We’ll keep an eye on you all, okay?”

 

It helped and Rami managed a smile.

 

All the same, he was worried about Freddie, hiding away on his own. He was resolved to find him later, to make sure he was okay; Freddie had looked after him so far and Rami was determined to return the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *listens to It's Late* What a bop.  
> Also Me: Brian, you little hoe.
> 
> (Also, Aaron putting a sock on his dick? Got that idea from Jason Momoa doing the same thing on Game of Thrones)


	17. Brian and Gwil: I Hope You Found It Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have to film the miscarriage, and no one's taking it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for discussions of miscarriage and depictions of miscarriage. Stay safe guys ❤
> 
> I feel like I should be writing something happier for Brian's birthday, but I have a busy day/weekend ahead, so this will likely be the only update today.

**_“The thin thread that held you, how did it come untied? The grace you only ran from, the bridges that you burned; the peace of mind you learned to live without. I hope you found it now. I hope you found it now.” -I Hope You Found It Now,_ ** **Jason Walker**

 

It ripped Brian’s heart out.

 

Rami wore a tiny pair of shorts and a tank-top, like Freddie sometimes wore to bed when it was a hot night....And a thin, but steady stream of fake blood trickled down his legs.

 

He hadn’t been there when Freddie miscarried, none of them had been. They’d only arrived for the aftermath, after Phoebe called them, to tearfully explain what had happened. He wasn’t there when it happened, but he was there for the fits self-loathing, the tears, the long silences; he was there when Freddie continually blamed himself.

 

It broke his heart then and it broke his heart now.

 

Rami’s shaking hands went to his thighs, smearing the blood. His breathing came in panicked, ragged gasps before he screamed,  _ “PHOEBE! PHOEBE, HELP!” _

 

Next to him, Deacy muffled a sob behind his hands, as Dexter called for an end to the scene. They were going to cut straight to Ben answering the phone and racing to Rami with Gwil and Joe. 

 

They’d never really gone into detail about that day, no matter how hard the press quizzed them. Freddie had kept that pregnancy as quiet as he could, but of course rumours spread. And then they’d all wanted to keep the miscarriage quiet, but a roadie, Neil, sold them out to the press months after the fact. He was a relatively new guy; he’d overheard Crystal and Roger talking about it and went straight to the tabloids, selling the secret for money.

 

That guy had been fired faster than they could blink, and Brian had to try and hold Roger  _ and  _ Deacy back from lashing out, even though he’d been sorely tempted to do the same. But violence wouldn’t solve anything. He didn’t know what  _ would. _ He just couldn’t fathom why anyone would go to the press about this, let alone when Freddie had finally been doing  _ better. _

 

Miami had kept them all in line, managing to keep things somewhat calm, and Freddie had sat in the corner, both hands on his stomach and that awful, dead look in his eyes had come back full force. Brian hadn’t been able to stand it. Eventually, he’d shouted, “Just  _ GET OUT! _ ” at Neil.

 

It had sent Freddie plummeting back into that dark void, spiralling into self-hatred and blame again; he never answered the press’s questions, he just walked past them silently or changed the subject, but they’d been relentless.

 

Brian hadn’t known what to do; not even Roger had known what to do. Jer Bulsara insisted on popping into Freddie’s house every day with food, as if all he needed was a good meal. To be fair to her, it had been one of the few things that got Freddie out of his room. But even she didn’t know what to say to him.

 

Even now it made Brian clam up; he’d felt so  _ useless  _ and he  _ had  _ been, he was sure of it. 

 

Though, hadn’t they all been?

 

“I fucking hate this,” Roger whispered, as the crew ran around, preparing for the next bit. He kept glancing behind him, as if terrified Freddie would change his mind and decide to attend after all, though they all knew damn well that he wouldn’t. He’d put his foot down and stayed in the living area, turning the volume on the TV right up to drown everyone else out. Brian didn’t blame him, none of them did, and no one had the heart to ask again if he’d come with them. This was one scene Dexter and the cast would just have to figure out on their own. No one really had the heart to quiz Freddie about it- and Brian was pretty sure no one wanted to risk  _ Queen’s  _ wrath by asking.

 

He was beginning to wish he’d sat this one out himself. The Ridge Farm scenes had been harrowing, but more  _ angering  _ than anything else. This just made him want to cry.

 

“Do you think Fred’s okay?” Deacy asked.

 

“No,” Brian said honestly.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Gwil was hyper aware of Roger, Brian and John looking at them. He wanted to get this right. He wanted to do it respectfully and with tact. They all seemed more upset by this than they had by the attempted-assault scene. At first it had taken him by surprise, but he kind of understood. Of all the things that happened, this  _ still  _ upset Freddie to talk about.

 

He hadn’t asked Brian about it, and he knew the others hadn’t asked either. It didn’t seem fair. Best to just get on with it, to do their best and to hopefully do it with grace.

 

This wasn’t something to make a spectacle of. He wanted to do it  _ right. _

 

They rushed together to Rami’s “bedroom” and Ben ran to him first, holding him close. Joe curled up behind Rami, spooning him, and Gwil lay down behind Joe; he reached out to push Rami’s hair back off his face and take his hand, squeezing tightly.

 

Rami’s sobs sounded so real that Gwil felt like crying himself. His eyes brimmed with tears, his throat tightened, and he hoped to God they’d never have to do this for real.

 

“It’ll be okay,” Joe said quietly, voice breaking.

 

“But it’s not  _ now, _ ” Rami sobbed and Ben held on tighter, cooing comforting words that fell flat, shushing him uselessly, holding him to no effect. For a moment it felt too real for comfort and Gwil had to bite his lip to keep from crying, to keep from saying anything.

 

“Cut!”

 

Dexter nodded, a solemn smile on his face. “Good work boys,” he said. “Take ten, yeah?”

 

They untangled themselves, looking at each other wearily.

 

“This sucks,” Ben huffed.

 

“I’m going to check on Freddie,” Rami said, crawling off the bed. 

 

“We’ll do with you,” Joe said. 

 

Gwil looked around as they left the bedroom; Brian, Roger and John had already vanished.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They were having a cuddle pile on one of the sofas; Freddie was squished in between them all, despite his protests (which sounded half-hearted to Brian). He hadn’t been up for discussing the scene, and neither had they, so they lay in silence.

 

Brian wasn’t surprised when their actors burst into the room, but he  _ was  _ surprised when Rami flung himself at Freddie and hugged him tightly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rami said, voice muffled by Freddie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 

Freddie, looking tired and small, patted Rami on the back with a wry smile. “I’m okay,” he said. “But you all look ghastly.”

 

“It’s...hard,” Gwil said quietly. They all looked wary and upset, too upset for comfort, and Brian wasn't about to stand for it.

 

“Get over here,” Brian said, holding an arm out to them. Ben, Joe and Gwil quickly joined the pile on the sofa. Deacy laughed quietly, holding Joe close with a smile. Roger managed to make room for Ben and Rami in between himself and Brian, and Gwil squeezed in between Freddie and Deacy, reaching out to grab Rami’s hand.

 

“You guys have done brilliantly,” Brian told them. “You really have, and we’re so proud of you.”

 

“Thanks,” Joe said, blinking rapidly, smiling a wobbly smile.

 

“It’s the last heavy scene,” Roger said. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“But are  _ you  _ all okay?” Gwil asked, poking his head up to look around at them.

 

“We’re fine,” Freddie reassured him. 

 

“We don’t go down so easily,” Roger said. Brian could practically  _hear_ his smile. “I promise.”

 

They really didn’t have long to go now, and Brian couldn’t quite grasp it. This movie was nearly complete; these boys had wormed their way into his heart and he was proud to know them, proud to see how hard they’d work and how they’d formed a little pack of their own.

 

Filming the miscarriage wouldn’t break  _ Queen  _ and Brian was sure it wouldn’t knock their actors down for long either. They were all fighters in their own way and, more importantly, they had each other’s backs.

 

He’d been worried about who they’d hire to play them, how they would interact with each other. He’d been worried that they simply wouldn’t  _ get  _ it, wouldn’t understand their bond- they weren’t just friends, they were  _ family. _

 

But these boys  _ got  _ it.

 

And that made all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least I managed to fit SOME fluff in.


	18. Freddie: Bohemian Rhapsody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the movie premiere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the plan: I'll be covering (most) of the movie, as I doubt ya'll want a blow-by-blow account of it, you pretty much know how it goes. I'll be covering the after party, POSSIBLY the Golden Globes, but I'll CERTAINLY be covering the Oscars. Then, I'll be working in some vignettes of how the movie would go in Theo's 'verse. For anyone who doesn't want to read those they'll be labelled as "DV: Theo" for example. (DV for Darkness 'Verse)  
> If you want to avoid the angst that's a-okay. (Though I'll be honest I only have 3 or 4 planned scenes for the Theo movie right now).
> 
> ANYWAY, enough rambling, let's get started!

**October 2018** **  
** **_“So you think you can stone me, and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me, and leave me to die? Oh baby; can’t do this to me, baby. Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here!” -Bohemian Rhapsody,_ ** **Queen**

 

Freddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous; here they were at the premiere for  _ Bohemian Rhapsody,  _ and he was so worried everyone would hate it. Sweat, blood and tears had gone into this film. He didn’t want to watch their actors get crushed if this flopped, because he  _ knew  _ they’d get the brunt of it.

 

For now, he forced himself to focus on walking down the red carpet with Roger, Brian, Deacy and their wives. Kashmira and her husband and children were with them; his hand was linked with Jim’s, Brian had Anita under his arm, Sarina beamed happily and Veronica seemed slightly stunned by all the flashing lights, though she held Deacy’s hand and smiled valiantly. Maeve and Carrie’s arms were linked; all their children were there. Cameron was bouncing around happily, Rufus joined Roger in finger-gunning and grinning.

 

Behind them were the cast; their leading four walked together, heads held high, answering the press’s questions patiently. They stuck close together; if one fell behind the other three waited for him to catch up. If anyone seemed nervous they immediately linked arms, walking as a united front.

 

“I hope it goes well,” Deacy said as they walked into the cinema. “I really want it to go well.”

 

“Me too,” Freddie said. He smiled over his shoulder at their actors. “I think it’ll be okay.”

 

The one fly in the ointment was Singer. He’d been given credit as director, so of course he was in attendance. With any luck he’d fall and tear his pants, or walk into a wall. Maybe if they were really lucky a light would fall and hit his head. One could only hope, and Freddie had always been an optimist. 

 

“Freddie!” One last reporter ran up to him. “Could we get your opinions of the boys portraying you? How do you think they did?”

 

Freddie could see Jim roll his eyes; his grip on Freddie’s hand tightened slightly, like he was resisting the urge to hide Freddie behind him (which he’d done before). Normally, Freddie liked to hurry past the press and hope they did notice him.

 

This time, he smiled.

 

“I think they’re wonderful, extremely talented young men, and I’m very glad I met them,” he said sincerely. “And I think they did a fantastic job, and they were extremely respectful and kind whenever they had questions for us. Now if that’s all…?”

 

The reporter nodded, and they hurried to catch up with the others.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They knew a lot had been cut out; a lot of the drama with Freddie’s family had been cut for instance. It showed their reunion, but didn’t show much of the conflict that had come from finding each other again. All the Japan scenes had been cut- a few quick shots of the concerts would appear during the  _ Killer Queen  _ montage they were told, but that was all. The  _ ‘39  _ scene had been cut, Deacy’s audition had been cut; Dexter mentioned that some of Live Aid had been cut too. Freddie coming up with  _ Crazy Little Thing Called Love  _ was rumoured to have been cut too.

 

All in all, they’d had...What, five hours of film to work with? It made sense that things had to go, but he maintained his right to pout over that particular scene if it was gone.

  
  


They knew it wouldn’t be perfect. There was surely no such thing as a perfect adaptation, but Freddie was excited either way.

 

The lights dimmed, Brian’s version of the Fox theme song started to play, excited cries rang out and the movie began.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Somebody To Love” _ began to play; the camera carefully stayed away from Rami’s face as the opening shots showed him (and the entire crew) getting ready for Live Aid. The crowds poured in to the announcement of “It’s 7am in Philadelphia, 12 noon in London and around the world it’s time for Live Aid!” The music grew in volume as Rami, apparently alone, walked towards the stage. And just as the song reached its end- _

 

_ Cut backwards to Zanzibar, 1964. Rami jumped off his bicycle and hurried upstairs into the apartment; his smile dropped uncertainly when he came across Meneka and Ace sitting in the living room. Neither of them were smiling. Ace’s frown deepened at the sight of Rami, and Meneka looked quite unreadable. An embroidered cushion lay on the floor by the sofa. _

 

(It was one thing Freddie and Kash hadn’t appreciated: their parents rarely made Freddie kneel on the floor, not unless their grandparents were visiting, not unless they had important guests. Usually, he’d been allowed to sit on the sofa, but the argument had been that they wanted to show how normalised Omega discrimination had been- and in some countries, still was.)

 

_ Ace nodded to the cushion. “Sit down, Farrokh,” he said calmly. Rami rolled his eyes and scoffed; he knelt but kept his eyes defiantly up; he folded his arms, frowning. _

 

_ “What?” Rami asked, voice surly. _

 

_ “Manners,” Ace snapped. He took a deep breath, and his voice was calmer when he spoke again; “I’ve been speaking to your grandfather, and...Well, we’ve come to an agreement. He has arranged a marriage for you.” _

 

There was a brief stunned pause; the panic was obvious on Rami’s face, and Freddie remembered that day clearly. He remembered the shock, how sick he’d felt, how scared he’d been. He remembered running to the beach and standing in the water, determined to not let them wear him down. He’d refused to be ashamed of being an Omega; instead, he’d been determined to shine, to make the world know his name and love it, just the way he was. And sure enough...

 

_ Rami ran from the room, fleeing to the beach. He sat on the sand, looking on the verge of a panic attack; his quick gasps of breath almost sounded painful and he closed his eyes tightly, digging his hands into the sand. _

 

_ When his eyes opened again they were fiery and determined. He pressed his lips together as his breathing slowed to regularity. _

 

_ “No way,” he muttered to himself, glaring out at the horizon. “They can’t make me.” _

 

“Damn right they can’t,” Freddie heard Brian mutter and he bit back a smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ The next scene was partially a voice over. As a tall, handsome young man knocked on the door, Ace’s voice explained, “His name is Dazmen Yazadi; he’s the grandson of your grandfather’s friend, Taher. He’s twenty-three, Farrokh, and he’s from a good family.” _

 

_ “I’m  _ seventeen, _ Papa!” came Rami’s furious voice. _

 

_ “And you’ll be eighteen in September,” was Ace’s calm response. “You’ve been of age for five years now, it’s time you settled down.” _

 

The door opened to Meneka’s smiling face; Rami lingered behind her, frowning. Freddie had to give them this, the tension was obvious even through the screen. The dinner was as awkward as he remembered it; Rami remained silent and scowling, barely deigning to answer any questions thrown his way.

 

_ “How dare you embarrass us!” Ace shouted, once the door closed behind ‘Dazmen.’ “You disrespectful little- get to your room!” _

 

_ “Gladly,” Rami spat, slamming the door behind him. _

 

_ The screen faded from Ace’s frowning face to the beach the next day. Meneka walked a respectful distance behind Rami and ‘Dazmen.’ _

 

_ “You don’t want to marry me, do you?” _

 

_ Rami frowned. “No,” he said. _

 

_ “Well, I hope I can change your mind,” was the cheerful response. ‘Dazmen’ gazed down at him. “You’re beautiful, Farrokh.” _

 

_ Rami’s grin was startled, and he didn’t cover his teeth in time. ‘Dazmen’ was shaking his head. _

 

_ “We’ll have to do something about your teeth,” he said. “I can’t have my future husband walking around Bombay like that.” _

 

Freddie could hear the furious hisses and growls all around him; Jim growled, tucking Freddie under his arm. “Ooh, that little sneak!” was Anita’s indignant response. Maeve bristled next to him and when he looked he saw that Roger was snarling. He rolled his eyes fondly, curling up closer to Jim, watching with a smile as Rami stormed away, head held high.

 

_ “You’ll never have me!” he shouted over his shoulder...And  _ “Spread Your Wings”  _ began to play.  _

 

_ Suddenly, it was nighttime and Rami was hurriedly packing a small suitcase and a backpack. He kept looking at his bedroom door with frightened eyes, freezing at every little noise. He sat at his desk and scribbled two notes; the first he addressed to  _ “Mama And Papa,” _ and left it on the kitchen table. The second he addressed to  _ “Kashi,” _ and he tip-toed into the next bedroom; Praniti was playing the young Kashmira, turned on her side, back to the camera. Rami left the note on her bedside drawer, kissed her cheek and sneaked back to his own room.  _

 

Of course, movies needed drama. Freddie had gotten away with relative ease. In the movie, just as Rami reached the street corner, Ace and Meneka shouted,  _ “FARROKH!” _

 

_ Rami gave a startled gasp and started to run; they had a clear view of his desperate, terrified face. He was in his thirties, yet he somehow managed to look even younger than seventeen. He looked small and frightened, near tears as he ran, ignoring the desperate screams behind him, all while  _ “Spread Your Wings” _ played overheard. _

 

_ One of the last shots they had was of Rami stopping dead in the street, just as he reached the taxi rink. He looked over his shoulder, out of breath from running. Tiny, frightened, but determined. He looked taller, stronger; the multi-coloured lights of a nearby shop played on his face, hair and clothes; he didn’t look like Farrokh Bulsara. _

 

_ He looked like Freddie Mercury. _

 

_ “Going on holiday, kid?” the taxi driver asked cheerfully. _

 

_ “To London,” Rami said. He sat up straight, a proud little tilt to his chin. _

 

“Wow, Papa,” Maeve whispered with wide eyes.

 

“You already knew I ran away,” Freddie pointed out.

 

“Yeah, but...It’s different seeing it.”

 

He supposed she had a point. His daughter looked awed; it was a story she knew all too well, but she still seemed surprised. They  _ all  _ knew the story, and they’d gotten sucked in already.

 

Surely that meant they were off to a good start?

 

He craned his neck to look down the row, and he couldn’t help but smile; Joe, Rami, Gwil and Ben were all holding hands, eyes glued to the screen, small smiles on their faces. They looked happy so far.

 

On the screen, the setting had changed entirely; it was a familiar shot of London, with the caption  _ September, London England, 1970.  _

 

Well then. Now the  _ real  _ drama could begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be babysitting my aunt's dog for a week starting tonight, so writing may not be as fast as I'd like; I've quite an old dog, and he's an energetic little pup, so I'll have my hands full (I have two dogs to spoil, I'm so looking forward to it 💖)


	19. John: Keep Yourself Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The movie is still on it's happier opening scenes; the band meeting, their show at Ealing and meeting Mary. But soon enough, they'll be moving onto EMI and John's not looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's bloody difficult getting this done with two dogs piling on top of me. On one hand, frustrating. On the other hand, I'm living the dream. Give me a dog and I'll happily cuddle it. (It's impossible to stay mad at them for distracting me, they just want cuddles)

**_“I was told a million times of all the people in my way, how I had to keep on trying and get better every day. But if I crossed a million rivers and I rode a million miles, then I'd still be where I started, same as when I started. Keep yourself alive, come on, keep yourself alive! Ooh, it'll take you all your time and money, honey, you'll survive.” -Keep Yourself Alive,_ ** **Queen**

 

John held Veronica’s hand as the movie continued. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched. They’d moved onto London, to the day Freddie, Brian and Roger met. It was one of those things he wished he could have been there for; he’d turned up last, the last to join the band, their funny little pack. He’d missed out on the very start, and he’d heard the memories a thousand times, but now he was watching it.

 

Freddie had worked two jobs; cashier and bar tender. He’d worked in a pub called _The Salmon._ Despite the fuddy-duddy name, it had been a popular student hang-out. The manager, Collin, had been good for a laugh and was usually willing to look the other way if you forgot your ID. He paid any performers well, and let them hang out after closing, for a free pint or two.

 

The movie version of _The Salmon_ looked nothing like the actual pub, but they’d just about managed to recreated the atmosphere of the place.

 

_Rami came running in, shrugging his denim jacket off and tying his hair back into a messy bun._

 

_“I’m not late am I?” he asked._

 

_“Just on time,” ‘Collin’ laughed. “You’re on floor tonight, okay, Freddie?”_

 

_Rami paused. He quickly looked to a group of rambunctious young men and bit his lip._

 

_“Sure,” he said with false cheer. “No problem.”_

 

_The problem became apparent soon enough. He was just meant to collect empty glasses, make sure the tables and floor were clean, but every time he passed that particular bunch they’d make lewd comments or wolf-whistle. The third time Rami passed them, on his way back to the bar, the red-headed guy in yellow flared trousers reached out and smacked his ass._

 

_“What time’s your break, Omega?” he asked with a grin. Rami gave him a forced, close-lipped smile and hurried away before anything else could be said._

 

“Typical,” Veronica muttered, tutting disapprovingly. John’s grip on her hand tightened instinctively. Veronica’s free hand patted his and she smiled up at him.

 

“Sweetheart, no need to frown,” she said. “It was decades ago.”

 

That didn’t make it okay. That didn’t mean John wasn’t angry when he thought of how often his wife (his _wife,_ his Ronnie, the love his life, mother of his children) had been harassed, be it verbally or physically. That didn’t mean John wasn’t angry when he thought of how often his best friend (his sweet, funny Freddie, his voice) was harassed.

 

_The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes sympathetically when Rami came back._

 

_“Sorry about them,” she said. “I promise not all Alphas are assholes.”_

 

_“Yeah?” Rami said, raising an eyebrow. “Find me some friendly ones.”_

 

_“My boyfriend,” she said with a cheeky grin._

 

_Rami shook his head, smiling, as he started to clean the glasses- and that was when Jack Roth, who played Tim, spoke into the mic._

 

 _“Sorry for the wait, everyone!” he said cheerfully...but he also seemed a little distracted. As they launched into_ “Doing All Right” _his playing, and indeed his singing, seemed half-hearted. He missed notes and didn’t even seem to realise. The camera showed how disgruntled Gwil and Ben looked; it panned out to show that a lot of the crowd wasn’t paying attention as the show went on. However, when they launched into_ “Keep Yourself Alive” _Rami noticeably perked up. His hand covered his mouth when he grinned, his eyes lit up and he began to audibly hum as he worked, expertly dodging any wandering hands, head held high._

 

_He caught Ben’s eye; the blond Alpha grinned and winked as he twirled his drumsticks, Rami tilted his head, smile growing, before he turned away._

 

“Are they trying to imply they’re interested in each other?” Veronica whispered, to which John could only shrug cluelessly.

  
  
  
  
  


“Humpy Bong!?” _Ben burst out. “Are you_ joking? _”_

 

_“Please tell me this is a prank,” Gwil said desperately, but Jack shrugged with an apologetic smile._

 

 _“Look guys, they’re_ good. _They’re going places! This? This isn’t going anywhere, you know that.” Jack picked up his bass, now securely packed away and offered that apologetic smile again. “I’ve got to give it a go,” he added, and he left without a backwards glance._

 

_“...Bloody hell,” Gwil sighed, running a hand through his hair. With a growl, Ben turned and kicked the wall._

 

_“Now what?” he demanded._

 

 _It cut back inside to Rami. He was still humming_ “Keep Yourself Alive” _as he untied his hair, fluffing it up with his hand. As he pulled his jacket back on, the camera panned behind him to show off the phoenix on the back of the jacket._

 

_“Safe home, Fred!” ‘Collin’ called and Rami waved goodbye cheerily as he left. Still humming, Rami pulled his keys from his pocket, twirling them as he walked...And finally began to sing._

 

“Keep yourself alive, keep yourself alive…”

 

_And cut back to Ben and Gwil, sitting in the back of the van._

 

 _“Well, Tim’s right about one thing,” Ben grouched. “That show_ was _a load of bollocks.”_

 

_“We just...Need to think bigger,” Gwil said a little desperately, a little pleadingly. "Make improvements."_

 

 _“We need a fuckin’_ singer and bass player, _that’s what we need, Brimi.” Ben leaned back with a sigh, utterly despondent. “We’re fucked.”_

 

_And that was when Rami walked past, a few feet away in the car park._

 

“But if I crossed a million rivers, and I rode a million miles then I'd still be where I started, bread and butter for a smile,” _his voice- or Freddie’s voice rather, echoed in the empty car park, and Gwil and Ben sat up straight._

 

 _Here it comes,_ John thought with a smile.

 

_“Who is that?” Gwil asked._

 

_“One of the bar men,” Ben murmured, already on his feet. “OI! HEY, WAIT UP!”_

 

John heard Anita giggle at the look of sheer terror on Rami’s face as Gwil and Ben came running towards him.

 

“Oh, poor thing,” she said.

 

“Two Alphas running at him after dark? An Omega would have to be insane not to be afraid back then,” Brian said ruefully. Anita nodded and John found himself nodding in agreement too.

 

“Alright, it does look more dramatic this way,” Roger murmured. “Suppose how it actually went looks boring in comparison.” 

 

“You still gave me a fright,” Freddie said with a grin. “One minute I’m cleaning and singing to myself, the next minute you two appear and join in.”

 

“You didn’t look as scared as Rami,” Roger pointed out.

 

“I wasn’t alone after dark,” Freddie said. “My co-workers were all in earshot.”

 

Fair enough.

  
  
  
  
  


And after Freddie agreed to join _Smile,_ it cut to their first show at Ealing, where they met Mary. 

 

 _The scene started in the early morning. A calendar on the wall had the date circled in red, with_ “Show at Ealing!!!” _written in the circle. The sunshine streamed in through a gap in the thin curtains, highlighting Ben, Gwil and Rami. They were all curled up in bed together- in actuality, two beds pushed together, beds that were meant to be Ben and Gwil’s. Rami was in the middle, curled up in a little ball. Ben spooned him, and he was pressed against Gwil’s chest. Gwil snored and occasionally twitched, Ben grunted or muttered something illegible, and Rami made those familiar kittenish noises, sounding eerily like Freddie._

 

_Then the alarm clock went off; Rami groaned pitifully, curling up even smaller. Gwil groped behind him to turn it off, and Ben swore._

 

_“I hate early mornings,” Ben grumbled._

 

_“I’m not moving and you can’t make me,” Rami said, eyes still firmly shut. Only Gwil was making an effort to get up._

 

_“Come on you lazy sods,” he said, yawning. “We’ve a show tonight.”_

 

“Well that never changed,” Brian laughed.

  
  
  
  


_And then they were just outside the pub they’d done up to look like Ealing’s student bar. Outside, Lucy and the girls playing Mary’s friends, walked together arms linked. Rami, with Gwil, Ben and now Joe, were just ahead of them. At first glance, neither group seemed to notice each other, but one of the girls with Lucy was craning her neck to get a better look at Ben._

 

“Oh, this will be cute,” Freddie all but cooed.

 

_“Sorry about the hiatus guys,” Gwil said into the mic. Set-up was complete and the crowd was watching expectantly. “As you can see we’ve got some new faces. This is John Deacon, our new bass played.”_

 

_A polite scatter of applause as Joe nodded to the audience in greeting, a shy smile on his face._

 

_“And this is Freddie Bulsara, our new lead singer,” Gwil finished._

 

_“Hello,” Rami said, a tad nervously, and sure enough-_

 

_“What’s with the Omega Paki?” one guy yelled._

 

_“Yeah, where’s Tim?” another demanded._

 

_“Stop it,” Lucy hissed at them; the boys glared at her, a glare she easily returned. Her friends looked equally disgusted._

 

_For a moment, Rami looked near tears, but his face quickly hardened; his small hands clenched into even tinier fists, and Ben poked him in the back with his drumstick._

 

_“Ready, Freddie?” he asked, grinning._

 

_“Let’s show them,” Rami said with a determined glint in his eyes._

 

Really, it was close enough to the truth; the mic stand got stuck, it snapped when Rami tugged on it and he grinned delightedly, spinning around the stage and slapping the tambourine on his hip as he sang. The crowd on screen was quickly enthralled, singing and clapping along.

 

Next to him, Cameron was tapping his foot in time with the music.

 

“Having fun?” John asked him. Cameron nodded eagerly, refusing to look away from the screen.

 

_It cut forward again, to the end of the show. Gwil and Joe were at the bar, Ben was chatting with the girl who’d been eyeing him up...And Rami was in trouble. The two boys that had heckled him had him backed against the wall._

 

_“I told you, I’m not interested,” Rami snarled. “Now get out of my way.”_

 

_“Lighten up,” the taller of the two said. “We’re just trying to make it up to you, aren’t we, Arthur?”_

 

_“Yeah,” ‘Arthur’ said. He reached out to touch Rami’s hair; Rami ducked, slapping his hand away._

 

_“Don’t touch me,” he said furiously._

 

_The taller one growled, getting even closer, crowding him even more. “Listen here, you little slu-”_

 

 _“_ There _you are!” came Lucy’s cheerful voice. She grabbed Rami’s hand, smiling apologetically. “Sorry I took so long, honey, the line for the ladies room was so long!” She pointedly held his startled gaze, squeezing his hand. “Ready to go?” she asked._

 

_Rami’s eyes darted between Lucy and the two men looming over him. He nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said; his smile only looked slightly forced. They held hands tightly until the men were out of earshot._

 

_“I’m sorry, that was probably utterly inappropriate,” Lucy said hurriedly. They let go of each other; she appeared somewhat flustered, apologetic, but Rami shook his head._

 

_“Don’t be,” he said. “I mean- it worked, didn’t it, darling?”_

 

_“Suppose so,” Lucy said, smoothing her coat. “It’s Freddie right?”_

 

_“Right,” said Rami._

 

_Lucy smiled again, holding her hand out. “I’m Mary Austin.”_

 

“That’s accurate enough, right?” John asked Freddie. Freddie nodded, beaming.

 

“Quick thinking on her part,” Kashmira said approvingly.

  
  
  
  
  


After that, it was onto the cuddle pile. In real life, John had his first cuddle pile weeks before they played at Ealing. In the movie, his first cuddle pile was just after the Ealing show.

 

_They collapsed together on the sofa; Rami had his head on Ben’s lap, his feet on Gwil’s. Ben rested his head on Gwil’s left shoulder, Joe on his right; Rami reached out to hold onto Joe’s hand, and Gwil had an arm around Ben and Joe each._

 

_“What’re we doing?” Joe mumbled sleepily, only cracking one eye open._

 

_“Cuddling,” Rami yawned. “Now shush.”_

 

_“Isn’t it a bit weird?” Joe asked._

 

_“Nope,” Gwil said, head tilted back, eyes closed. “Now shush.”_

 

_“...Okay.”_

 

_Joe settled down, snuggling closer, yawning once more._

 

_The camera panned out, showing the four of them cuddled together. It looked peaceful. It looked natural._

 

 _And then, the scene slowly faded out, fading to a new flat; a new flat with two bedrooms and the caption on screen read_ 1973.

 

“1973,” John murmured. “We’ll be moving onto EMI now.”

 

“It won’t be pretty, will it?” Veronica asked, squeezing his hand again.

 

“No,” John said. His eyes darted nervously to Roger and Jim. “And neither of them will be happy.”

 

He could just hear Ben say, “That sofa wasn’t very comfortable.”

 

“No,” Joe laughed. “It damn well wasn’t.”

 

“You guys were though,” Rami said, somewhat smugly and John bit back his laughter, grinning to himself.

 

No, the upcoming scenes were about to get heavy, but he was surrounded by his family on all sides, and their actors (their mini-selves as he’d dubbed them) seemed to be doing perfectly well themselves. They were still holding hands.

 

So far, John was happy; his friends and family seemed happy, their actors looked happy too.

 

They all had their packs with them. As much as John hated what came next, he could handle it with them all there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *re-watches and re-reads Picnic At Hanging Rock*  
> Me: *screams forever*
> 
> (Yes that may have distracted me as well.)


	20. Brian: Hammer To Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The EMI scenes commence; no one's happy, but Brian's glad to have his pack all around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while! These chapters are longer than "Keep On Rocking" so there's a lot more editing to do; with two clingy dogs it's hard to get anything done.  
> However, my aunt's dog went home this afternoon, so hopefully I can get back on schedule now!
> 
> This chapter focuses on Brian's feelings moreso than the movie itself- we've already covered the band meeting Foster, the nude 'shoot and Ridge Farm previously, so rather than just repeating myself we're gonna get a peek into Brian's head.

**_“For we who grew up tall and proud in the shadow of the Mushroom Cloud, convinced our voices can't be heard, we just wanna scream it louder and louder and louder. What the hell are we fighting for? Ah, just surrender and it won't hurt at all. You just got time to say your prayers, eh, while you're waiting for the hammer to, hammer to fall.” -Hammer To Fall,_ ** **Queen**

 

The movie had moved forward to 1973; Brian couldn’t help but smile at the band’s first meeting with Reid (even if the sight of Allen, dressed as Paul, still made him feel uneasy). But once they moved forward to Foster’s office, the mood abruptly shifted.

 

Once Freddie and Brian spoke up, a  _ lot  _ of people suddenly came forward to cite EMI’s abuse against them. Other musicians and singers, even interns and secretaries, all came forward with their own grisly tales, backing Freddie’s story up, telling the world what EMI put their Omega employees through. There were some singers or musicians, previously believed to be Betas, that turned out to be Omegas on suppressants- and every single person was humiliated, abused, treated like an object and not a person.

 

It wasn’t just Freddie. It was just that Freddie was the first to speak up.

 

Brian watched, feeling that old queasy squeeze in his stomach, as the boys met “Ray”. The resemblance really was uncanny; they’d even gotten the office decorated exactly as Brian remembered it. It had been something the filmmakers had been desperate to get correct.

 

There was a major change however; Norman Sheffield would not appear on screen, he’d only been mentioned as Foster’s boss. Ergo, they’d combined Foster and Sheffield’s personalities into Mike’s character.

 

Foster himself had looked at Freddie like an object, as just another way to make money, no matter what he had to do to get it. He’d said he didn’t see  _ why  _ Freddie was considered a sex symbol; he said Freddie was too short, too skinny, that he had ugly teeth and a weird face. He didn't get it, but he'd gladly use it to his advantage.

 

Sheffield on the other hand? He made lewd comments whenever Roger wasn’t in earshot. He always smiled at Freddie’s anger and embarrassment. “Learn to take a compliment,” he’d said, again and again. Unlike the irritable Foster, Sheffield had been icy and detached, so poised that Brian was reluctantly impressed sometimes.

 

The movie version of Foster kept the temper; he still spoke over Freddie, he still sneered whenever he had to let Freddie speak- but he also eyed Freddie up and down, made perverted comments and touched him when unnecessary. Foster’s divorce had even made the papers later on, so some of his behaviour was based on his wife’s testimony. Crude, abusive, with a fearsome temper.

 

It was true enough, Brian supposed, just exaggerated...And he had a feeling it was going to piss off a lot of people down the line.

 

_ “I can’t believe the contract actually said that,” Joe said, running his hands through his long wig. “It’s an awful contract as it is, but...But  _ that… _ ” _

 

_ “And it applies to every unclaimed Omega who works for them,” Gwil murmured; he looked pale. “So- what, if an Omega got divorced or was going through a break-up EMI would legally be allowed to rape them?” _

 

_ “...We have to keep this up,” Ben said. He was still holding Rami’s hand; their tiny Omega looked ill. _

 

_ “If they find out we’re faking…” Ben trailed off, closing his eyes as if the thought physically pained him.  _

 

_ “Then Foster can do whatever he wants with me,” Rami said quietly. The camera zoomed onto their clasped hands, showing when they squeezed even tighter. _

 

_ “I won’t let that happen,” Ben vowed. _

 

_ Rami smiled sadly, sweetly. _

 

_ “You can’t look after me all the time, Rog.” _

 

_ “Watch me.” _

 

“I know it’s just acting,” Anita whispered to him. “But they’re so sweet.”

 

Brian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him. “They are,” he agreed, glancing down to their actors. To his amusement (and fondness) they were all still holding hands, whispering together. Joe caught his eye and grinned. Biting back a laugh, Brian shot him a thumbs-up.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The nude photoshoot still made him want to vomit, and Brian felt vindicated by all the growls around them, because that meant people didn’t agree with that way of thinking anymore; they didn’t condone it. They weren’t on Foster’s side.

 

He’d known, logically, that times had changed in a major way. Nowadays, EMI’s contract, their treatment of employees, would be illegal, even if it was the norm back then. Things were different now, but it was still a relief to hear almost the entire theatre growling in protest. It wasn’t just the Alphas either; almost everyone present was growling, or baring their teeth in a snarl. Anita gripped Brian’s hand so tightly her rings cut into him.

 

“Oh, Maevie-baby, it’s alright,” he heard Freddie say; he turned to them and saw that while Jim was growling, holding Freddie close, poor Maeve was crying.

 

“That’s  _ disgusting, _ ” she sobbed. Carrie was holding her left hand, Freddie was holding her right. “He’s a monster.”

 

Given the context he wasn’t sure if she was talking about Foster or Prenter- or maybe she was referring to all those assistants, putting their hands where they weren’t wanted, talking about Rami  _ (about Freddie)  _ like he was a piece of meat, like he was a sex doll.

 

Either way, Brian agreed with her. Oftentimes, he’d felt like they weren’t dealing with people at all; they were working for monsters.

 

Foster, Prenter and Sheffield acted like Omegas weren’t human, but if you asked Brian those men needed to take a good look in the mirror.

 

(He wouldn’t wish death on anybody, but he was so glad they were all gone.)

 

_ You can’t hurt us anymore. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Just before Ridge Farm, there was a scene that made Brian shudder.

 

_ “So I hear you and Roger are living separately?” Mike asked. Rami sat as straight as he could, fists clenched in his lap. _

 

_ “Is that a problem?” he asked coldly. _

 

_ “Just...Wondering what the situation is,” Mike said. He’d perfected Foster’s old leer. He leaned forward, hands clasped together. For once he wasn’t wearing sunglasses; they had a clear view of his eyes roving over Rami. His smirk grew as he looked him over. “As your boss I’ve every reason to be concerned. If you’ve broken up that could cause trouble for the band.” He stood and walked out from behind his desk, standing by Rami’s side, looming over him. “And if you’ve broken up,” he continued, soft and threatening as a snake. “You legally have to tell me.” _

 

_ Slowly, his finger trailed down Rami’s neck; his thumb pressed down where Rami’s neck met his shoulder, and Rami jerked back, snarling. _

 

_ “We haven’t broken up,” he snapped. He yanked on his shirt collar, revealing the mark on his neck. “For goodness sake, we’re allowed our own space! Rog has never lived alone, he’s entitled to wanting to try it, and we’re still trying to find a flat big enough that allows pets.” He stood up, gathering his jacket in his arms, clinging to it like a security blanket. “Boss or not, if you touch me he’s legally allowed do  _ anything  _ to protect me.” _

 

_ Mike folded his arms, snarling himself. _

 

_ “Someone better teach you to watch that mouth of yours,” he snapped. “You need another lesson.” _

 

_ “I know what lesson you have in mind,” Rami snapped. His smirk was vicious; "Leave that to Roger." And he swept away, head held high. _

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad he’s dead,” Sarina muttered.

 

Roger scoffed. “You and me both, love.”

 

“I just can’t believe all this was allowed,” Jimmy said; he looked and sounded pained. Brian patted him on the shoulder with a sad smile.

 

“Believe it,” he said quietly. “And this isn’t even the worst of it.”

 

Because here came Ridge Farm; what had started off as an ideal scenario, an idyllic getaway, became a nightmare. That last night ruined it all, tarnished it in Brian’s mind forever.

 

It hadn’t all been bad; in fact, they’d had an amazing time at first, caught in a creative frenzy...But that last night, Prenter’s near assault, turned Ridge Farm into a topic to be avoided in Brian’s mind. He didn’t like to think about it, none of them did. He didn’t want his children to watch this; adults or not, they were still his  _ children.  _ He didn’t want  _ any  _ of their children to watch it.

 

But it was important, they couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. Because life wasn’t always a fairytale,  _ Queen’s  _ climb to the top hadn’t been an easy one.

 

Like it or not, they had to tell the truth, where and when they could. That was the whole  _ point,  _ Brian felt. They’d never shied away from the unfairness of the world, they’d never shied away from difficult topics. Why should they now?

  
  
  
  
  
  


It went as expected; as soon as the assault started, Jim began to growl again, snarling so ferociously that Brian jerked back in shock. Jim held Freddie tightly, pressing him against his chest.  _ Everyone  _ in their row was snarling, even their actors; Gwil nearly pulled Rami into his lap, glaring at the scene on screen like it could hurt Rami.

 

Somehow, that helped Brian calm down.

 

Gwil held Rami close; Rami seemed startled, but his small hands clung to Gwil’s jacket regardless. Joe reached out and grabbed one of Rami’s hands, snarling; Ben hand his hand on Rami’s leg, positively  _ oozing  _ rage. 

 

And yet the sight got through the fog in Brian’s brain, it helped ground him. It was 2018, not 1975. No one was in danger, they were watching their film premiere. Paul Prenter was dead, Allen Leech was a kind young man who wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on Rami.

 

Brian was surrounded by his friends and family, his pack. Their actors clung together, the four newest members of Brian’s pack; they’d formed a mix-matched four-member little pack of their own.

 

_ "YOU EVER LAY A HAND ON HIM AGAIN AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Ben roared, thrashing against Gwil's hold. _

 

"Go Uncle Roger!" Luke laughed. Cameron was gaping, Emily muffled her shocked laughter behind her hands.

 

"Damn, Dad," Rufus whistled.

 

"Worth it," Roger snarled. Brian didn't doubt that if they somehow put Prenter in front of him, Roger would do it again.

 

If anything, Brian was sure Roger would finished what he started.

 

 

 

 

_ Rami was wrapped in a blanket; Gwil brushed his hair off his face, getting Rami to follow Gwil’s finger with his eyes. _

 

_ “I don’t think you’re concussed, but we really should get you checked,” he said worriedly. He checked the bruises forming on Rami’s wrists, squeezing his hands. _

 

_ “I’m alright, darling,” Rami protested.  _ _ Ben snorted; Rami glanced at him and wilted. _

 

_ “Okay, fine,” he mumbled. _

 

_ Joe was snarling, bristling with rage, growling whenever anyone outside  _ Queen  _ came close. He even snarled at Tom when he came to check on them. In the distance, they could see Aidan and Allen arguing. _

 

_ “He’s done,” Ben growled. “I’ll kill him otherwise, I swear I will.” _

 

_ Rami leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder; instantly, Ben relaxed somewhat, hugging Rami against his chest, running his hand up and down Rami’s back, tangling his other hand in Rami’s hair. He kissed the top of Rami’s head, still staring Allen down. _

 

_ “Roggie, I’m okay,” Rami whispered. “I’m alright, see?” _

 

_ “I wasn’t with you,” Ben said; he sounded anguished, a stark contrast to the rage in his eyes. "I didn't protect you." _

 

_ “What have I told you, darling? You can’t look after me all the time.” _

 

_ Ben pulled back, still cupping the back of Rami’s head. _

 

_ “Yes I can,” he said, as simply as that. Totally convinced; so simply determined, as if it were obvious. _

 

Jim leaned forward. “Thank you, Rog,” he said. Despite his previous snarls, he looked near tears. Freddie snuggled into him, nose pressed against Jim’s neck.

 

Roger smiled fondly. “Any time.”

 

Brian settled back with a smile; his smile grew when Anita relaxed against him, tucking herself under his arm again.

 

“Please tell me the bit where you quit is coming up soon,” she said with a mischievous grin.

 

“Right about now,” Brian confirmed; Anita’s grin grew and Brian sat back, finally relaxed again.

 

The harder, sadder scenes weren’t all done; there was still a lot of drama to look forward to- but for now, Brian was all too happy to watch their on-screen selves trump Foster once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Deacy's POV and then we can hopefully move onto the after party!


	21. Roger: Don't Stop Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The movie draws to a close, and although Queen and company are happy, a certain ex-director sure isn't...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this we have the after party and the Oscars- then the (admittedly not many) snippets of the movie from Theo's universe. On with the show!

**_“I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky, like a tiger defying the laws of gravity; I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva. I'm gonna go, go, go, there's no stopping me! I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah. Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit; I'm traveling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!” -Don’t Stop Me Now,_ ** **Queen**

 

Roger watched with a grin as the movie cut back to Foster’s office. The end notes to  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ were playing, and he had to hand it to Mike; the guy had some hysterical facial expressions. Roger didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look so fed up.

 

And then came the glorious moment.

 

_ “I’m the one paying for this album, and what I say goes!” Mike yelled. He thumped the table, glaring at Rami. “So keep your fucking mouth  _ shut,  _ like a good Omega unless you want me to shove something in it! God knows that’s all it’s good for!” _

 

_ Silence reigned; even Aidan looked shocked. Ben, Tom and Gwil instantly started to growl; Joe was openly snarling. _

 

_ Rami alone appeared calm. Slowly, he walked over- and put out his cigarette on Mike’s desk, staring him down. _

 

_ “I’d bite it off first, darling,” he drawled. He strutted to the door, his friends following. “And for the last time, it’s called  _ Bohemian Rhapsody,  _ it’s not that hard.” Rami threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Enjoy being the man who lost  _ Queen. _ ” _

 

“Dear God, the  _ nerve! _ ” Anita hissed.

 

“Don’t worry, he didn’t actually say that,” Roger said. “Close enough, but he didn’t make any sex references.” He scowled. “That was always Prenter and Sheffield.”

 

_ “...Perhaps that went a bit far,” Aidan said with forced patience. “But I’ll talk to them, Ray.” _

 

_ CRASH! _

 

_ A rock came hurling through the window; the glass shattered, narrowly missing Mike’s head, landing on his desk and the floor. _

 

_ Clearly startled, Mike and Aidan ran to the window- and there in the car park, by the fountain, were Rami, Ben, Gwil and Joe; the camera quickly showed Tom staring at them in shock from the doorway. _

 

_ “You can take that out of our royalties!” Rami shouted, flipping the bird with an utterly shit-eating grin. _

 

_ “Prat!” Joe yelled. _

 

_ “Wankers!” Mike yelled back- but the boys were already walking away, arm in arm, all of them laughing. _

 

_ “You made a mistake, Foster!” Gwil called over his shoulder. _

 

_ “Shove your gold discs!” Ben added. _

 

“Shove your gold discs!” Roger mouthed. He caught Freddie’s eye and grinned; together they mouthed, in perfect sync with Mike;  _ “You’ll never have any gold discs, you medium talent!” _

 

Freddie hid his giggles in Jim’s shoulder, while Roger pressed his hand over his mouth.

 

For all the dramatics, that had been a good day. They’d broken free of EMI, they’d left Sheffield, Foster  _ and  _ Prenter behind. They got the last word, the last laugh.

 

It had been a gamble, but it more than paid off.

  
  
  
  
  
  


After that, after a concert collaboration, the movie moved forward; it showed David and Joe, it showed the miscarriage (which all of them winced at); it showed a montage of Omega Rights marches and protests. It showed the string of men that treated Freddie like a toy, not a person. It showed Freddie’s increase in anxiety attacks, his growing fear that that was all he was seen as; a sex toy, not a human being. It showed the false positive pregnancy tests, it showed his smile briefly slipping at the announcement of Veronica’s latest pregnancy, of  _ all  _ his friends having kids.

 

_ “Freddie, when are you going to have children?” a reporter asked- and Rami’s smile froze. _

 

_ He gave that false laugh, that little “Haha!” and kept on smiling. _

 

_ “When I find the right person to have children with, I suppose,” he said...And the camera quickly showed that, under the table, his hand pressed down on his stomach, gripping his shirt so tightly that it was still noticeably wrinkled when the interview ended. _

 

“Oh, Papa,” Maeve murmured. Freddie reached out to pat her hand and Roger was suddenly hard pressed not to cry. He remembered those years clear as day; he remembered the press constantly asking when Freddie would settle down, he remembered Freddie having a panic attack in his arms after one such interview, crying that he couldn’t have kids, so what was the point, who’d even want him?

 

Roger had done his best to calm him down, but it had taken so long; it had been one of the longest panic attacks he’d seen from Freddie, even to this day.

 

And then, there was that drunken conversation between Freddie and Roger in New York.

 

_ Ben and Rami certainly knew how to appear plastered. As Gwil and Joe staggered from the room, Ben grunted and Rami lazily waved goodbye. _

 

_ “Should we sleep?” Rami asked. _

 

_ “Fuck that,” was Ben’s reply. He grabbed another bottle of champagne. “If anyone deserves to get smashed it’s us!” _

 

_ At first they were giggling about nothing in particular, but as they fell quiet, Rami bit his lip; his hand was on his stomach, his utterly (perhaps painfully) flat stomach as he kept his head turned away from Ben, staring out at the lights as he said, “I don’t think I can have kids.” _

 

_ After a brief, stunned pause, Ben sat up. _

 

_ “What makes you say that?” he asked cautiously. _

 

_ Rami gave a little mirthless huff of laughter. “Well, let’s see- I lost the only one I’ve ever carried. Everything else was just false alarms. I...It’s not like I’m safe all the time, I’ll admit that, darling. And yet…” He shrugged, still looking away. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous of you all, that’s not fair of me, but-  _ God,  _ Rog, I’m so sick of being on my own, I...I feel like no one really wants me around.” _

 

_ Instantly, Ben had him pinned, straddling him, holding Rami’s face in his hands to force him to make eye contact. They were both crying. _

 

_ “You listen to me,” Ben said forcefully, even as his voice broke. “Me, Brimi and Deacs will  _ always  _ want you. You’re  _ pack,  _ you’re family, you- you’re ours, you’re  _ mine.  _ And I promise you, one of these days someone who deserves you will come along.” He gave a wobbly smile. “And I promise I’ll be giving that guy one hell of a shovel talk before I let him put a ring on it. I promise you are going to find someone  _ perfect  _ for you...And I’ll be the first one crying as you walk down that aisle, okay?” _

 

_ Rami nodded; his tears fell faster, Ben’s dripped down onto Rami’s face, and Ben pressed their foreheads together, joining their hands and gripping tightly. _

 

Sarina sniffed, dabbing at her eyes.

 

“You okay, ‘Rina?” Roger whispered.

 

“You two kill me,” she whispered back. “You utterly kill me, you know that right?”

 

When he glanced around he saw that his wife wasn’t the only one in tears; Felix and Tigerlily were crying; so were Veronica and Deacy, and Maeve and Carrie. From what he could see Gwil was too. Actually...He looked around and saw that a lot of the people in the theatre were crying.

 

Well then. He’d take that as a good sign.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Finally,  _ finally,  _ they moved onto the meeting with Jim.

 

As soon as the sex scene started, Freddie hid his face in Jim’s shoulder again; Jim buried his face in his hands with a mortified groan.

 

Maeve went red, Carrie giggled hysterically, and when Roger looked around he saw that  _ all  _ their were reacting similarly. Well, it made sense; they were essentially watching their uncles have sex. God knew Roger wasn’t exactly comfortable right now. It was all well and good gossiping about each other’s sex lives and sharing crazy stories, he didn’t need to  _ see  _ it.

 

Still, there was an abrupt change in tone from there on out. There was the band meeting Jim, the proposal, the  _ wedding... _ And then it moved onto the  _ “I Want To Break Free”  _ fiasco. It had been exaggerated, but not by much; the fight lasted longer and was a bit more vicious...But they didn’t need to change much, Roger could admit.

 

Yeah, Roger still wasn’t proud of how he acted.

 

As the argument started, Sarina pinched his arm.

 

“Ow!”

 

“That was uncalled for, Roger!”

 

“It happened  _ years  _ ago!” Roger protested, but Sarina still raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “We apologised,” he reminded her; she still didn’t look happy.

 

On screen, Rami stormed out, near tears and Joe went after him. For a moment, they had a lingering shot of Ben and Gwil on the drum rise, before it began to fade out.

 

From there on out, it was all tension and snapping; petty arguments and insults, stone cold silences. When Ben snarled, outright  _ snarled,  _ at Rami to shut up and do what he was told, Rami stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. For a split second, Ben looked horrified with himself; as Rami’s lower lip started to tremble, Ben looked mortified- but when Rami ran, Ben didn’t follow. He turned and kicked one of the drums, but he didn’t follow him.

 

_ “It’s been two weeks” Tom said tiredly. “When are you going to sort this out?” _

 

_ “When Deacy and Freddie stop acting like brats,” Gwil snapped, strumming at his guitar irritably. _

 

_ “I’d say you’re the ones acting like brats,” Tom snapped finally at the end of his rope. He shoved an armful of magazines and papers at Ben. “Read those,” he said, his voice starting to raise. “You got hate comments, the world’s not ending, boys. Your pack should be worth more than this! It’s not just you two, Freddie and John are getting backlash too. You should be sticking together, not taking it out on them!” _

 

_ He slammed the door behind him; Gwil and Ben gaped after him. _

 

_ “...I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell,” Gwil mumbled, starting to strum again. With an annoyed sigh, instantly scowling again, Ben began to read the magazines and papers...And his scowl slowly vanished as he winced and looked near tears instead; the camera showed the latest comments...Not hate, but words of support. _

 

“The biggest band in the world acknowledged the stupid shit we were expected to wear? Oh hell yeah! You go guys!” Tessa, age 19

 

 “Watching these guys gave me the courage to tell my parents I wanted to go to university after all. They gave me the courage to walk away from my abusive Alpha. Four years later and I’m about to graduate, and I’ve met the love of my life. Thanks for everything, boys.” -Marcus, age 22

 

 “Among all the backlash and fury, this reporter wonders what all the fuss is about. Surely, this was not foolhardy but brave? Here is a band of four young men, determined to change the world for the better. My fellow Beta wrote another hit; he could have stopped there. Instead, he decided to take a stand, not for himself but for his fans. For his friends. For his family. Frankly, I applaud Taylor and May for their support; it’s not every day you see an Alpha, let alone two Alphas, willing to acknowledge the unfairness of the world. This song, this video, complete with Mercury’s beautiful vocals, may just become the anthem Omegas needed all this time…”

 

_ “Brimi…” Ben held the stack out. “You might wanna read this.” _

 

_ And as Gwil read, he began to look ashamed. _

 

_ “...They wouldn’t all be thanking us if they could see how we’ve been acting,” he sighed. _

 

_ “God, I can’t believe I told Fred to shut up and do what he’s told,” Ben groaned, burying his face in his hands. “He won’t even  _ look  _ at me now.” _

 

_ “Deacy won’t talk to me either,” Gwil said, still reading. Finally, he set everything down, biting his lip, tugging at the long curly wig. “We need to apologise, Rog.” _

 

_ “I know,” Ben said, rocking back and forth on his heels.  _

 

The apology went pretty much the way it did in real life; Joe and Rami proclaimed it as “a start” and the cuddle pile was rife with tension.

 

_ “If you ever tell me what to do again,” Rami said lowly, eyes blazing. “You’ll find out how good a boxer I really am.” _

 

_ “Noted,” Ben said; Gwil nodded in agreement. Rami stared at them with clear distrust, before he laid back down, cuddling with Joe. _

 

_ “Well, like Deacy said, it’s a start,” he mumbled. Joe smiled wanly, patting him on the back. _

 

And then it was time for Live Aid.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger knew these final scenes like the back of his hand; after all, he’d lived it. There was no drama, no changes (apart from  _ “We Will Rock You” and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”  _ having to be cut for time); the boys had every  _ movement  _ perfect, they’d even done their best to copy the camera angles that had been used at Live Aid, all those years ago.

 

As they reached the infamous “note heard around the world,” Roger heard people around him respond with their own little “Ay-o!” and he couldn’t have stopped grinning if he’d been paid to. Their actors were all clutching each other again, clearly anxious as they watched the movie’s climax, as eager as always to get it right.

 

And they did. They completely, utterly did.

 

And then came the ending…

 

_ As  _ “Don’t Stop Me Now”  _ began to play, Freddie’s slowed down, isolated vocals seemed to add  _ something  _ to the closing scene. As they slipped into slow motion, it almost felt like more than a few seconds were passing.  _

 

_ Rami turned to leave the stage, seemingly making direct eye-contact with the real audience as he did. A faint smirk, a little bounce in his step and he was gone. Joe stared out at the Live Aid crowd, still waving as he followed Rami off stage. Ben and Gwil exited together; there was one last, lingering shot of the crowd and… _

 

_ Back to black.  _

 

_ Then the pictures started; first a shot of Freddie at Wembley in that infamous yellow jacket, in that oh-so familiar pose, one arm up, gaze turned away. _

 

“Freddie Mercury and  _ Queen  _ continue to fight for equality to this day.”

 

_ A shot of Freddie, Jim and baby Maeve. _

 

“In 1987, Freddie was proven wrong and gave birth to his only daughter, Maeve Hutton.”

 

_ And a shot of  _ Queen  _ at their latest show. _

 

“Queen is still performing and going strong.”

 

_ Finally, a picture of Freddie and Roger from the 70s; a candid shot courtesy of Brian. It was from a show rehearsal; Freddie and Roger sat on the stage, legs crossed. Freddie’s head rested on Roger’s shoulder, Roger had an arm around Freddie’s waist. _

 

“And Freddie and Roger remain best friends to this day.”

 

“Damn right we are,” Roger muttered with a smile.

 

After that, it was just the credits; the song changed to  _ “The Show Must Go On”  _ as pictures, and even a few short video clips from interviews and various concerts played on the edge of the screen.

 

Roger had enjoyed himself, but he still found himself crossing his fingers as the credits came to a close, and the lights came back on.

 

There was a second’s silence before the whole room burst into applause. The cast and crew stood together; their main four were still clasping hands, all of them grinning and looking around like they couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

 

“That was brilliant!” Rufus said.

 

As they all stood, Roger glanced at the cast and crew again. Their actors were surrounded by well-wishers and reporters of course and he saw a rather large group surrounding Dexter, shaking his hand.

 

The only person who looked put-out was Singer. He stood off to the side, glaring at Dexter, glaring at the cast.

 

_ It’s your own fault,  _ Roger wanted to say, but if experience had taught him anything, it was that Alphas like Singer simply weren’t worth it.

 

Fuck him. Let him sulk. There was an after-party to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 'verse there will still be complaints about the movie; some fans will complain they ended at Live Aid, and not at Maeve's birth. Some will complain about the "I Want To Break Free" fight being exaggerated, claiming it makes Brian and Roger look bad.   
> Some will complain that Joe and Phoebe played such small roles (because in this version of the movie they're pretty minor characters- they show up more in the Theo 'verse movie). Some of Sheffield's family will complain about him being cut, and some will secretly be glad of it. Foster's family WILL complain about his portrayal, as will some of Prenter's family (despite Prenter's portrayal being accurate).   
> And of course, there's some people who just won't like that the movie addressed Omega discrimination- after all, it's in the past, what does it matter now?  
> Because hey-ho, when you have a massive fanbase like Queen's, it's simply impossible to please everyone, and some people don't like that it's not all sunshine and roses. This version of Freddie still had a tough time of things.
> 
> Not much on this story left to go! I'm mostly looking forward to writing the Oscars to be honest 💖


	22. Rami: I'm Still Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rami finally stands up to Singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for sexual harassment, courtesy of Singer.
> 
> After this we just have the Oscars, then a snippet or two from Theo's 'verse- and I MEAN just one or two, we'll only be looking at a few major scenes and changes.

**_“Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind. I'm still standing! (Yeah, yeah, yeah) I'm still standing!” -I’m Still Standing,_ ** **Elton John**

 

Rami felt like he was caught in a whirlwind; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so elated. He and his friends were surrounded by well-wishers, everyone was shaking their hands and congratulating them. More than one person said his performance had moved them to tears. It was going better than he could have hoped for.

 

Best of all was when Freddie ran over and hugged him.

 

“Darling, you were  _ fabulous! _ ” Freddie pulled back, only for Rami to instantly pull him back in.

 

“Thank you,” Rami whispered. “For everything.”

 

“You don’t need to thank  _ me,  _ darling, you did it all yourself.” They both glanced to the others, and Rami could feel his own gaze softening, could feel his excited grin transform into a fond smile.

 

“Well, not entirely by yourself, hm?” Freddie asked, nudging him.

 

“I couldn’t have done it without them,” Rami said, and he meant it. He couldn’t imagine doing this without them. Joe was right; they weren’t just friends, they were pack.

 

“You have fun tonight,” Freddie said, squeezing his hand. “All of you. You deserve it.”

 

Before filming this movie, before gaining more confidence, Rami would have ducked his head and made some demure “Oh I don’t know” sort of comment. But now he grinned, holding onto  _ Freddie Mercury’s hand  _ as he said, “Damn right we do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a good party; much as Rami liked his privacy, much as he liked his own company and some down time, it was a great night. The movie had been well received, the music was great, and best of all the drinks were free. Joe had taken advantage and gotten a whole bottle of champagne for the four of them to share.

 

In one corner he could see Maeve with her wife on her lap; most of the Deacon and May children were on the dancefloor, Roger was talking with Sarina and Rufus. John was sitting with Veronica, an arm snug around his wife’s waist. Brian and Anita were dancing as well, both of them laughing at something. Freddie was tucked under Jim’s arm, smiling at whatever it was that Jim was whispering in his ear.

 

Rami just felt so stupidly  _ fond  _ of them all. They’d all been great.

 

“I love you guys,” he blurted out. The four of them had commandeered a table to themselves, and Rami was lying out flat, his head resting on Joe’s lap. “You’re all great, I- I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone else.”

 

“Me neither,” Ben said; he sipped at the champagne and leaned against Gwil. 

 

“Love you guys too,” Gwil said happily; he’d long since lost his tie and his jacket sleeves were rolled up. 

 

“I love you dorks,” Joe said. He squeezed Rami’s shoulder, refilling both their glasses. 

 

“You were right,” Ben said. “We’re pack.”

 

Maybe it was the emotion of the moment, maybe it was because he was tipsy, but Rami found himself wondering what his dad would make of all this. The movie, all the drama involved in just  _ making  _ the damn thing. And this; his odd little pack, his three new brothers. He’d been protective of Rami, worrying that some Alpha or other would take advantage. Said Malek had traditional views in that he felt Rami needed looking after; not that he needed to be married off, or beaten into submission...He just worried that Rami would end up with someone who  _ did  _ think that way. When Rami began to grow as an actor, Said had worried he’d be type casted as a sex doll, or a terrorist, or  _ both.  _

 

“I know you can do it, baba” he said, time and time again, and then he’d grin. “Your old man just worries, that’s all. It’s my job.”

 

He’d had his old-fashioned moments, but Rami liked to think he’d be happy to see the four of them now; Ben, Gwil and Joe looked after him without smothering him, or treating him like he was weak. They respected his decisions, they knew when to leave him be. 

 

Surely his father would approve of this? Surely he’d be happy?

 

Either way, Rami was happy.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Perhaps someone up there had it in for Rami; it was his turn to get the next round, and of course, Singer was at the bar. Their ex-director was tipsy, but no more than Rami himself was.

 

Part of Rami wanted to turn right back around and ask one of the others to get the drinks instead. If he explained Singer was at the bar, they’d do it.

 

However, a much larger part of him refused to be intimidated again. This night wasn’t about Singer. This night was about him and his friends, they were  _ celebrating.  _ Why should he let Singer scare him off?

 

So he marched over to the bar, slipping through the crowd (sometimes being small came in handy) and waited to be served. The poor bartenders looked overwhelmed. Rami couldn’t blame them, things were getting a little crazy.

 

He was just starting to think that Singer didn’t notice him when a hand grabbed his wrist and jerked him around.

 

“Malek,” Singer drawled.

 

“Let go of me,” Rami said. Singer’s grip tightened, but Rami jerked away, edging away from the bar. 

 

“Oh what, going to start crying again?” Singer demanded. He scoffed, finishing the last of his drink. “Gonna get me thrown out like you got me thrown off set?”

 

“You got  _ yourself  _ thrown out, actually,” Rami said; he was pleased with how calm he sounded, how utterly uncaring he sounded. He didn’t duck his head or avoid eye-contact; he didn’t run away. He stood up straight, fists clenched and met Singer’s gaze. “No one made you disappear for days at a time, no one made you make threats, no one  _ made  _ you throw that light at me or kiss me for that matter.  _ You  _ did all that. But it’s nice to see you haven’t learned your lesson.”

 

He turned back to the bar- and was suddenly jerked backwards; Singer’s hands were tight on his hips, pressing Rami against him.

 

“Don’t play coy with me,” he hissed. “You knew what you were doing. I’ve seen you with the others-”

 

“You think we’re sleeping together!?” Rami felt sick- but hadn’t that been what Singer said before?  _ “I’ve seen you with the others.”  _ He saw them being comfortable together, lounging together or hugging, just being  _ themselves _ and thought they were having sex.  _ Christ.  _

 

“You’re an Omega,” Singer continued viciously. “That’s all you’re good for, don’t pretend otherwise you little slut, you led me-”

 

_ “Get away from him.” _

 

Singer let go in surprise and Rami instantly ran to Freddie’s side.

 

Apparently, Rami only  _ thought  _ he’d seen Freddie angry before, but his previous anger had  _ nothing  _ on this. He was so angry his cheeks were going red, snarling, growling under his breath. He pushed Rami (albeit gently) behind him, getting right in Singer’s face.

 

“You never learn, do you?” Freddie growled. 

 

“I could say the same,” Singer snapped. Maybe he was drunker than Rami had initially thought- or maybe he was just that reckless. “You think you can march about telling people what to do? A short, scrawny  _ old  _ Omega? You were barely fertile even when you were young, you’re  _ useless,  _ Mercury. You’d have been better off just doing what EMI wanted.”

 

“How dare you!” Rami snarled, but Freddie held his hand up, stopping him. He suddenly seemed taller.

 

“And you,” Freddie began cooly. “Are an idiotic, old-fashioned Alpha stuck in the past. Pull the dynamic card all you want, darling- no one cares. It may have escaped your notice, but no one cares if you’re here or not. Actually, I’m sure we’d all be much happier if you took a hint and fucked off. Being an Alpha isn’t actually that impressive.”

 

“Tell yourself what you want, but it means I’m worth more than either of you,” Singer said smugly. He smirked at Rami. “If I talk to the right people I could have that stubborn slut on his knees in my office by next week.”

 

Rami couldn’t help but shrink back, clinging to Freddie’s arm.

 

“So how about you get out of my way unless you want the same treatment?” Singer said, looming over them both. He chuckled, smirking again. “Wouldn’t surprise me. All Omegas are whores.”

 

He could feel Freddie shaking, but his fellow Omega still held Singer’s gaze. He even smiled.

 

“How about you fuck off unless you want me to get you fired?” He tilted his head and laughed. “Oh wait. I already did.”

 

That did it. Singer suddenly flushed red.

 

“How dare you, you fucking son of a-!” He cut himself off, apparently too angry to speak. He raised his hand, bringing it down sharply-

 

-And before he could hit Freddie, Rami lunged forward and slapped him as hard as he could.

 

There was an almighty cracking sound as Rami’s hand landed flat on Singer’s cheek. Singer jerked back, clutching his face in shock. Everyone around them was suddenly turning to stare and Rami stood there, hand still raised, panting in surprise with himself.

 

He’d never properly hit someone before. Acting, sure. A few schoolyard scuffles, yeah. But an actual  _ fight?  _ Never.

 

He’d just hit Bryan Singer.

 

And then Freddie was hugging him again, patting him down as if checking for injuries, but Rami wasn’t the one hurt.

 

“Oh God, Rami love, are you okay?” Freddie asked frantically. Rami nodded mutely. Underneath the shock was boiling anger. He edged past Freddie and glared at Singer, ignoring the shocked cries all around him.

 

“If you lay a hand on him I’ll kill you,” Rami said forcefully. “Make all the threats you want,  _ Alpha,  _ you sicken me.”

 

He’d never managed to make “Alpha” sound like an insult before either, but here he was.

 

“Rami!”

 

Joe, Gwil and Ben were pushing through the crowd; Jim and the other  _ Queen  _ boys were right behind them.

 

Ben reached them first, hugging Rami tightly, snarling at a still shell-shocked Singer. Two other men were trying to tug Singer away.

 

“What did he do?” Ben demanded.

 

“He was just…” Rami pressed his lips together. If he let everything slip in front of his boys, let alone in front of Freddie’s pack too, this could turn into a full on bloodbath. “He was just leaving.”

 

Doubtless the press would have a field day about this, but who would the public believe? Freddie Mercury, one of Britain’s biggest stars, one of the most beloved frontmen of all time, or Bryan Singer? Would they believe Rami, who was frequently described as “sweet, quiet and earnest,” or Singer?

 

For once, Rami wasn’t worried. He knew damn well who’d come out on top here, and it wasn’t that pervert.

 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Jim asked, cupping Freddie’s cheek in his hand. Freddie leaned into his husband’s touch, resting his hand on top of Jim’s.

 

“I’ll explain later,” Freddie said. He caught Rami’s eye and smiled. “Singer was just being himself.”

 

Rami smiled back, happily returning Ben’s hug as he did.

 

He had no desire to ruin everyone’s night over Singer. He wouldn’t let Singer ruin his night either.

 

_ “You’re more confident lately,”  _ Joe had said before filming ended...And he was right. Before this film, he’d have been frightened off, he’d have run from Singer or frozen and been forced to listen to his threats.

 

But this time he stood up to him. He defended himself and Freddie. Now, after playing someone who quickly became his role model, now after being surrounded by supportive friends, after forming his own little pack, after having to emulate Freddie’s stage persona for months...He  _ did  _ feel more confident.

 

He didn’t feel shy about being an Omega. He felt more pride in his Arabic heritage; he held his head high and proudly said he was Egyptian. 

 

Singer wasn’t going to ruin this for him. No one was. Rami wouldn’t let them.

 

He glanced at the bar and remembered why he’d come over here in the first place and grinned at his friends.

 

“Drinks anyone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last we're seeing of Singer 😏


	23. Rami and Freddie: We Are The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Oscars and for this adventure to draw to a close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Rami and Freddie in case you couldn't tell.

**Dolby Theatre, California USA, February 25th, 2019** **  
** **The Oscars** **  
** **_“We are the champions my friends, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end. We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions of the world.” -We Are The Champions,_ ** **Queen**

 

Was Freddie a little nervous? Yes. After all, it  _ was  _ the Oscars; everyone was nervous tonight. Honestly, he was more worried about  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ than their performance, but that wasn’t to say he was totally calm about their show. This wasn’t exactly their typical audience of rock fans, it was all big name actors and directors, some of whom he  _ knew  _ were utter snobs.

 

But most of his concern was for their actors, their mini-selves. They’d poured their hearts and souls into this film. Freddie didn’t want to see them crushed.

 

But there was no more time to worry, because they were being called to the stage. Freddie took one last glance in the mirror; he wasn’t young anymore, but what could you do? Still, he thought he looked good. He was in his usual trainers, worn for comfort rather than style but his black pants had a shimmering gold line up each seam and around the hem; his belt was studded with little stars. Over his black shirt was a long, glittering golden jacket that reached his knees, slightly reminiscent of his most famous yellow jacket.

 

No, he wasn’t that sex symbol anymore (and sometimes he was glad of it), but damn it all he knew how to wow a crowd.

 

Bring it on.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Rami sat with the other cast members, right in the front row.

 

“This is going to be great,” Lucy whispered; Aaron hummed in agreement, but Rami watched the empty stage reverently, eagerly awaiting the moment  _ Queen  _ appeared.

 

Then the lights went down- all but the lights on stage, which were suddenly shining brighter. The smoke machines started just as the infamous  _ stomp-stomp-clap  _ began; Brian’s guitar playing suddenly rang out through the room, the curtains rose and there they were.

 

_ “Whoo!”  _ Joe shouted, jumping to his feet- along with the entire room, Rami was pleased to see. Even people with drinks in their hands were clapping along as they launched into  _ “We Will Rock You.” _

 

_ “Buddy you’re a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man some day!” _

 

The critics could say what they wanted about their age, but they still knew how to wow a crowd. John was bouncing about, nodding his head in time to the music, Brian was grinning broadly; Roger oozed confidence and Freddie strutted about, dancing as he pleased. All of them suddenly seemed larger than life; they’d seemed legendary when they met (Rami could freely admit he’d been intimidated) but now...Now it was almost unbelievable. Otherworldly. 

 

_ “WE WILL, WE WILL, ROCK YOU!” _

 

Even if they didn’t win anything, Rami would walk away with a smile simply because of  _ this.  _ He was finally getting to see  _ Queen  _ live on stage, doing what they were made to do.

 

As they switched from  _ “We Will Rock You”  _ to  _ “We Are The Champions”  _ the crowd’s enthusiasm only seemed to grow. He caught sight of Jim outright  _ screaming  _ along with Miami.

 

As the song drew to a close, the screen behind the band flashed through clips of their most famous shows, faster and faster, ending on the oh-so famous clip of a younger Freddie holding his crown out to the crowd.

 

“Welcome to the Oscars!” Freddie cried, blowing a kiss; the clapping, screaming and cheering grew in volume (Rami’s own throat and hands were starting to hurt), and the curtain closed.

 

“I love them,” Ben said almost reverently.  _ “I fucking love them.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Soon after, Freddie found himself in the audience with his boys, tucked under Jim’s arm, watching and cheering as each category and winner was announced. 

 

“If Rami doesn’t win I’ll want to know why,” Roger huffed. Freddie smiled in amusement, but by now his nerves were mounting. He hoped Rami won, he really did; he’d seen how hard Rami had worked, he’d _ earned  _ it. He’d had to put up with Singer and his harassment (not to mention his blatant discrimination). For goodness’ sake, the boy had  _ fainted  _ because of how hard he’d been pushing himself.

 

Freddie  _ really  _ wanted Rami to win.

 

_ Come on,  _ he thought.  _ Please. He deserves it. _

 

“And the Oscar goes to…”

 

Freddie found himself gripping Jim’s hand, trying not to bite his lip.

 

“Rami Malek!”

 

Yes, Freddie screamed. Sue him.

 

He bit down on his own fist to muffle his continued squeals as the cameras showed Rami’s stunned face. Lucy had to nudge him to his feet; Joe reached out to squeeze his hand and Rami just looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. He shook his head as he walked to the stage, slowly getting more lively; he waved at Brian at Deacy, grinned at Freddie and returned Roger’s wink with a stunned, ecstatic smile.

 

“He won!” Freddie cried, shaking his poor husband. “Darlings, he  _ won! _ ”

 

“He won!” Deacy echoed with a grin. Roger was still hollering, Brian was clapping rapidly. Jim laughed, hugging Freddie close.

 

“He blooming earned it,” Jim murmured into Freddie’s hair.

 

“Too right he did, darling,” Freddie said; his eyes were starting to sting as Rami, a little shakily, began his speech.

 

_ You show them what an Omega can do, darling. Don’t ever let them stop you. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Afterwards, Freddie wondered if Brian was right; perhaps they just  _ attracted  _ drama. The ceremony was over and they stood with “the BoRhap boys” as the media had dubbed them, waiting for Rami- and then there was a sudden commotion. A team of medics ran past. There were shouts coming from the stage area.

 

“What’s going on?” Brian demanded of a passing, pale-faced actor; the poor man looked shaken.

 

“Rami fell off the stage,” the man stammered- and before anything else could be said, Joe, Ben and Gwil ran for it, pushing through the crowd.

 

“Rami!” he heard Gwil yell- and somehow that scared Freddie more, because he’d never heard Gwil shout outside of filming.

 

“Fuck’s sake, what are we waiting for?” Roger snapped, tearing after the boys.

 

“I’ll find Rami’s family,” Sarina said. “You go after Rog.” She ran in the opposite direction while Freddie, Brian, Deacy and their spouses hurried after Roger.

 

Towards the stage, three medics were trying to keep the boys back.

 

“He needs space,” one of the men insisted.

 

“We’re his pack!” Ben snapped. “Let us through!”

 

“Guys?” came Rami’s slightly dazed voice- and Joe darted past the medics, rushing to Rami’s side and taking his hand. One of the medics tutted disapprovingly, but made no move to stop him.

 

“You okay?” Joe asked frantically. “You didn’t hit your head, did you? Is anything broken? How many fingers am I holding up? How did-?”

 

“He’s okay,” a medic said with a slightly bemused smile. “Your arms will be sore from catching yourself, but it’s a jolly good job you did, Mr Malek.”

 

“No head wounds?” Freddie asked.

 

“No head wounds,” the medic confirmed. “But he seems shaken, so all of you keep an eye on him.”

 

“Obviously,” Joe said, now cuddling Rami, who rolled his eyes. Gwil hugged Rami quickly, but mostly settled for kneeling in front of him. Ben took his other hand, squinting at Rami like he expected wounds to appear at any second.

 

“Drama really does follow us,” Brian said ruefully.

 

“Where would be the fun otherwise?” Ben asked with a grin, though he quickly looked back to Rami.

 

Smiling gently, Freddie tucked Rami’s unruly hair back.

 

“You’re alright, darling?”

 

“I’m alright,” Rami said. He held the Oscar up, eyes shining. “Look what I have!”

 

“You earned it,” Freddie said.

 

“Can I pose with it for Instagram?” Joe asked. Rami snorted, leaning into him.

 

“Sure, Joey.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Rami’s head was  _ reeling  _ and not just from the fall, not just from the drinks.

 

_ He’d won a fucking Oscar! _

 

He laughed as he watched Joe pose with it, taking about twenty pictures for Instagram; group shots of them all gaping at the award, a few shots of Rami smiling shyly, Joe holding it above his head with a triumphant expression; Joe and Ben mock-wrestling over it; Gwil holding it above Rami’s head with a smirk.

 

Then there was one of Rami’s favourite photos; himself and Freddie sitting on one of the plush red sofas. Rami proudly held the Oscar and Freddie held out a glass of champagne towards the camera with a smirk.

 

“Everyone’s gonna lose their damn minds!” Joe proclaimed proudly. Rami only smiled, somewhat shyly.

 

“Can you send that one to me?” he asked.

 

Joe nodded with a grin; within seconds the photo had been sent to Rami and he found himself grinning fit to burst as he looked at it.

 

He’d been petrified that Freddie would hate him; now he could laugh at himself. All of this was just...It was beyond his wildest dreams. He’d met  _ Queen,  _ the living legends and they’d been nothing but kind and encouraging. They’d done their best to look after Rami and his friends.

 

His pack.

 

He couldn’t imagine making this movie with anyone else. Hell, he couldn’t imagine working with anyone else after this. When would he ever click with someone like this again? 

 

He, Gwil, Joe and Ben had quickly formed a little pack of their own, a family away from home and Rami wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

The one thing he didn’t look forward to was the press. He was riding high, so he was more talkative than usual, bouncing about the place (and trying his damn best to appear sober.)

 

“Did you doubt you could make it as an Omega?” one reporter asked and Rami hesitated.

 

“Sometimes,” he admitted, but he glanced towards his pack and  _ Queen,  _ and he grinned. “But I’ve had some pretty amazing role models.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They all ended up in Gwil and Ben’s hotel room.

 

“You’re  _ sure  _ you’re okay?” Ben fretted. “You keep stumbling.”

 

“I’m  _ drunk! _ ” Rami laughed, which set Joe off into a fit of giggles. Gwil collapsed onto the nearest king-sized bed, wheezing.

 

“We’re all drunk,” he laughed. “Absolutely smashed.”

 

“Sozzled,” Ben snickered, landing next to him. He held his arms out to Joe and Rami. “Now get over here, would you?”

 

Joe took a running leap, landing in between Ben and Gwil; both of them shrieked and barely managed to roll out of the way in time and all three of them were quickly in stitches. Fuck, maybe they were even drunker than they’d thought. Rami, more sedately (albeit shakily), climbed onto the bed, leaving the Oscar on the bedside table. There was no preserving his dignity as this point in the evening, but he may as well try.

 

“But like, really,” Ben said, making an abysmal effort to keep his face straight; he cupped Rami’s face, swaying even as he sat. “You’re okay?”

 

“Perfect,” Rami hummed. “Can we just shut up and cuddle now?”

 

They were  _ definitely  _ drunk; they all kept giggling at nothing, breaking the silence. All the same, it was comfortable; Gwil spooned Rami who was half-sprawled on top of Joe, who was being spooned by Ben.

 

“I love you guys,” Rami mumbled sleepily.

 

“Love you too,” Joe said, beaming. “I- I really can’t imagine doing this without you guys.”

 

“Me neither,” Ben said; Gwil settled for humming and nodding, nuzzling into Rami’s hair.

 

“I proved them all wrong too,” Rami said, closing his eyes. 

 

“Hm?” was Gwil’s sleepy response.

 

“Freddie proved them all wrong, I did too,” Rami said more firmly. He knew he wasn’t exactly making sense; he hadn’t told the boys about his angry reaction to the old  _ Queen  _ interviews, so he hastened to explain; “I just...I wanted to prove Omegas are as good as anyone else too.”

 

“You did,” Joe said. 

 

“No question about it,” Ben said, reaching out to poke Rami’s nose. “You’ve got an  _ Oscar  _ to prove it, Rams.”

 

That he did.

 

One by one they all drifted off; Gwil fell asleep first, snoring. Ben fell asleep next, occasionally humming in his sleep; then Joe, who twitched every now and then but was otherwise still and silent.

 

Smiling to himself, Rami snuggled in closer; he’d  _ done  _ it. He’d actually won Best Actor; the movie proved to be a hit. They’d  _ all  _ stood up to Singer, they’d proven the critics wrong, they’d _ all _ protected each other. They  _ all  _ broke the stereotypes of their dynamics, it wasn’t just Rami. None of them were what you’d call conventional, but they made it work and Rami was so grateful for it.

 

He’d tell them all in the morning.

  
For now, basking in his pack’s warmth,  _ “We Are The Champions”  _ still ringing in his ears, Rami curled up and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this we have a chapter or two covering the movie in the Darkness 'verse, so if you're not up for angst (though I promise some comfort) the story ends here 😉


	24. (DV) Theo: On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo's not impressed with Singer and he can't help but worry about the film's reception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but consider this...  
> Robert: *watching the news* Some idiot tried to fight the squid at the aquarium!  
> Theo: *covered in ink* Well MAYBE the squid was being a dick.
> 
> After this snippet we only have two more, or so. I really am just gonna cover the big scenes and have some Theo kicking ass.  
> (Also??? Theo's forty-one in 2017??? I can't deal with it, what the fuck. He's eternally an angry teenager in my head...) Anyway, thanks to ScholarlyBAMF for suggesting Finn Wolfhard to play teenage-Theo; his role in IT solidified it.

**2017** **  
** **_“I don't wanna be incomplete. I remember what you said to me; I don't have to fight alone. Bring me out, come and find me in the dark now. Everyday by myself I'm breaking down. I don't wanna fight alone anymore.” -On My Own,_ ** **Ashes Remain**

 

Theo kind of wanted to vomit. He’d been the one who insisted they tell the truth, but now he was wondering if that had been such a good idea.

 

_ “You can help people, Papa,” he said, holding onto Freddie’s hands. “Prenter’s dead, I’m not a kid anymore, it’s not like you have to worry about protecting me.” _

 

_ Freddie shook his head. “Theo, sweetheart, you’re my  _ child, _ ” he said. “Grown up or not, I’m always going to worry about you.” _

 

_ And Theo got it. The press would lose it when the movie was released- if they told the truth. As far as anyone knew, Roger Taylor was his birth father. They’d never said otherwise, they’d never told the truth.  _

 

_ But Theo was forty-one years old; he was a drummer, he was miles away from that angry, confused teenager he used to be. He was a parent himself; he understood the ever-lasting need to protect. And if Freddie really wanted to keep quiet, Theo wouldn’t push it. Because sure, Freddie was his parent, but Theo wanted to protect him too. _

 

_ But in the end, Freddie had tentatively agreed.  _

 

So here he was now, lounging against the wall, smoking and frowning as Singer marched about, barking orders. In particular, the guy seemed to enjoy yelling at Rami. Poor guy. He looked so much like Freddie it was scary and Theo had to admit, it made him want to push Rami behind him and hide him.

 

And then there was his own actor, the kid portraying his teenage self; Finn Wolfhard. He’d seen the kid in  _ IT,  _ and he had to admit he was impressed- and damned if “Go blow your dad, you mullet wearing asshole!” wasn’t something Theo himself would say.

 

Finn was frowning at Singer as well; he caught Theo’s eye and made his way over. He’d just gotten out of the make-up department; they’d styled his curly hair just like Theo’s and he’d agreed to grow it out, so it was pulled back in a ponytail. 

 

“He’s  _ still  _ yelling?” Finn asked.

 

“Unfortunately,” Theo scowled. “You okay, kid?”

 

“Nervous,” Finn admitted. “This is, uh...It’s a big deal.”

 

Theo couldn’t help but smile at him; Finn was an Alpha like him, skinny and pale like he’d been- and like him, he seemed terrified of fucking this up. Hell, to this day, Theo hated to feel like a screw-up. Therapy had done wonders, medication had helped, but if he felt like he’d fucked something up it could send him into a spiral of self-hate for  _ weeks.  _

 

Luckily for Finn, the kid seemed like a generally calm, collected person. But like all young Alphas who were still getting used to their dynamic, he seemed to take any slight against an Omega personally, wanting to prove he could protect and provide.

 

“...Is your dad okay?” he asked. “Freddie, I mean, not Roger.”

 

“He’s okay,” Theo said, but he wasn’t so sure. Freddie had been quiet since they arrived, barely leaving Jim’s side. They were filming Live Aid and Theo’s schoolyard fight, the fight that had revealed the truth; they were going from one extreme to the other.

 

Theo had read the script and he approved; the movie started shortly before Ridge Farm, to establish Prenter’s obsession. Prenter’s assault scene wasn’t graphic, but the aftermath was truthful. The trial was accurate, the anxiety attacks, all of it. Then there was Theo’s birth scene; they’d kept how dangerous it had been. Freddie and Joe’s relationship was shortened, but his and Theo’s meeting with Jim was accurate; the movie ended shortly after Maeve’s birth, ending on the day Freddie and Maeve left the hospital.

 

Yes, he’d been the one who suggested they tell the truth, but now he was wondering if that was such a good idea at all. One thing was for sure, when the Ridge Farm scenes started, there was no way he’d be there. He knew himself; he’d freak out and hurt someone. He knew all of  _ Queen  _ were sitting that one out. 

 

Talk about opening Pandora’s Box. He had no idea what to expect when this movie was released; how would the press take it? How would  _ Queen’s  _ fans take it? Hell, Prenter still had family in Belfast- would they make trouble, once it was confirmed that Theo wasn’t Roger’s?

 

Theo didn’t like uncertainty.

 

As Singer called for everyone to get into place, Theo threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He didn’t trust Alphas like that; they reminded him too much of Prenter himself, of Foster and Sheffield.

 

Theo would be keeping an eye on the bastard. Fox had been wary about hiring him with the accusations against him, but did it anyway. Theo wasn’t sold.

 

One wrong move and Theo would knock him flat.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Rami fainted and Theo was  _ pissed. _

 

“We  _ told  _ you to let them rest!” he yelled at Singer. “We fucking  _ told  _ you that you were pushing them too hard! He could have hit his head! What if he’d fallen off stage!?”

 

“He’s fine,” Singer snapped, though in the face of a younger, taller, stronger Alpha, he cowered backwards. “He was only out for a few seconds.”

 

“God, how can you just brush this off?” Theo was close to punching him. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. All he could think was  _ What if that had been Maeve? What if that had been Papa? Or Aunt Ronnie? What if that had been Cameron?  _

 

“Theo!” Freddie was calling him, that familiar warning tone in his voice. “Come here, darling.”

 

One last glare and Theo stomped over, flopping down onto the chair next to Freddie.

 

“You okay, Rami?” he asked. He couldn’t help but be worried; Rami was such a skinny little thing, so small, with such an earnest smile. 

 

“I’m fine,” Rami said weakly; he leaned against Joe, who kept making him take gulps of water. At least he had good friends looking after him.

 

“This is all Singer’s fault,” Ben hissed and Theo scoffed, folding his arms.

 

“You’re damn right.” Bristling, trying his damndest not to explode, he scooted closer to Freddie. Smiling gently, Freddie tucked Theo’s unruly hair back. Forty-one or not, having Freddie nearby always helped calm him down.

 

Finn was sitting next to Gwil, wide-eyed and clearly shaken.

 

“Okay, kid?” Theo asked. Gwil squeezed Finn’s shoulder reassuringly. Finn shrugged somewhat helplessly, craning his neck to peer at Singer. The director was glaring, but when Theo snarled at him he turned away.

 

“Why’d they hire him?” Finn asked.

 

“Because they’re idiots,” Joe said, throwing a glare at Singer. No one argued.

 

As soon as Rami was given the all-clear, they began filming again. Singer was quieter- clearly moody, but quieter. He didn’t yell once. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


At the end of the day, Theo wandered to his car with Carrie and Maeve right behind him; he’d driven them there after all.

 

“The cast seem great,” Maeve said approvingly. “And the staff are...mostly okay.”

 

“You hate Singer too, Maevie, just admit it,” Theo said with a smirk.

 

“...Yeah, he’s an asshole,” Maeve said. She hopped in the car. Carrie sighed, following her more sedately.

 

“I think the last person I knew who was that angry was my grandfather,” Carrie said as Theo started the car.

 

“Yeah, you don’t meet too many Alphas like that anymore,” Theo said slowly. “He’s an entitled prick. The way he talks to his assistant makes me sick.”

 

“Poor girl,” Carrie said.

 

“He was so condescending to us,” Maeve said with a scowl. “And to Papa. And  _ why  _ does he hate Rami so much? He’s doing a good job but Singer’s too blind to see it!”

 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on him,” Theo told her. “One wrong move and he’s dead.”

 

“ _ Please  _ don’t start a fight, T.”

 

“No promises, sis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some facts about Theo: as an adult he's now 6'1". Our angst boy still has that ponytail. Long hair is kinda his thing. He has a few tattoos- he has a semicolon on his right wrist and Maeve's zodiac sign on his left. He had a phoenix on his back, some stars scattered on his left bicep and "The Show Must Go On" just above his hip. He wants more. Freddie despairs.  
> Our boy is demisexual and has two kids; his daughter, Farkhondeh (named for Freddie) is what my nanny calls an "oops baby," born when he was 19. Her mom basically left her with Theo and fecked off. Farkhondeh is an Alpha like Theo.  
> His son, a Beta named Kae, was born when he was 25, before he and his wife even got engaged. His wife's name is Daphne, she's a Beta as well.


	25. (DV) Freddie and Rami: Me And The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rami panics during the Ridge Farm scenes, Freddie's there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual warnings that apply to the Darkness 'verse: discussions of rape, degrading language and anxiety attacks follow. As always, stay safe guys 💜
> 
> Since it's Deacy's birthday, I promise to try get some happier content up tonight!

**_“Say, don't see why people dogging me around; it must be that old evil spirit, so deep down in your ground. You may bury my body down by the highway side. You may bury my body down by the highway side, so my old evil spirit can Greyhound bus that ride.” -Me And The Devil,_ ** **Soap And Skin**

 

Freddie didn’t want to be here.

 

It didn’t look _that_ much like Ridge Farm, but the resemblance was there, just strong enough to make him uneasy. 

 

_Paul’s fingers tight around his neck, his furious hiss of, “You asked for this.”_

 

No. No, he wasn’t going to think about it, he wasn’t going to slip back into that state of constant terror. Instinctively, he looked around for Theo and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his son talking to Rami. Both of them were laughing, which was a further relief; Rami had gotten very quiet in the days leading up to this.

 

None of them would be going inside. Freddie had made up his mind to stay in the “recording studio” barn with Jim, Theo and _Queen._ He didn’t want to see it. He wasn’t totally sure how he’d handle seeing it at the premiere, how he’d handle _everyone_ seeing it, the whole world would _know,_ oh God he’d made such a mistake, he never should have told the truth, he should have just kept his stupid mouth _shut,_ and-

 

“Honey? Freddie, deep breaths, sweetheart.”

 

Jim’s arms were around him, one large hand running up and down Freddie’s back. “There we go, love, come on. In for four, hold for seven…”

 

It was an old routine, he knew these breathing exercises like the back of his hand. He clung to his husband; Jim continued to murmur soothing words, Roger wrapped an arm around him. Deacy took one of his hands, barely even flinching when Freddie’s nails dug into his palm, while Brian took over repeating the breathing exercises.

 

“It’s okay, Freddie,” Roger said. “You’re alright. We’re right here, see?”

 

“Sorry,” Freddie managed to choke out. “I just...I fucking hate it here, darling.”

 

He’d insisted on coming, but he still felt sick. Sure, he knew nothing was going to happen today; they had a system in place if Rami panicked. Although he’d be gagged like Freddie was, he’d been instructed to bang his hands against the floor three times as hard and loud as he could if he felt overwhelmed, so that was one worry taken care of.

 

And Paul was long dead. He wasn’t about to come jumping out of the shadows. 

 

But part of Freddie still felt _watched_ all the same.

  
  
  
  


They were all pretty quiet; at first Brian chatted nonsense in a vain effort to cheer everyone up, but he soon stopped when he realised no one was even cracking a smile. Jim kept an arm tight around Freddie’s waist; Theo held his hand, though whether it was for Freddie’s sake or his own, Freddie couldn’t tell.

 

Roger was deathly pale, but his face could have been carved from stone. Deacy twisted and untwisted the hem of his jumper; Brian kept checking his phone every few seconds.

 

He hadn’t been able to persuade Theo to stay home, but he was glad Maeve had proven too busy to come. It was, again, one less thing to worry about.

 

He wished he’d kept his mouth shut; he wished he’d just kept lying. They could have had some silly, cute movie about his and Roger’s so-called relationship and break-up; they could have made some points about Omega discrimination and still ended on a high note. They could have avoided any and all trauma.

 

But instead, he’d told the truth. They’d given the press fake leaks, so no one knew just what they were filming yet; as far as the press knew they _were_ making a movie about him and Roger.

 

It would have been so much simpler if that were true.

 

And then there was a commotion outside and Dexter’s assistant came running in.

 

“Rami’s panicking,” she said breathlessly, and Freddie was the first one out the door.

  
  
  
  


Rami hadn’t meant to panic. He’d told himself it was fine, that he could handle it. They’d taken precautions and it wasn’t like he was _actually_ being attacked.

 

But there was still something so humiliating about being pinned naked, tied-up and gagged to the ground, with an entire _room_ of people staring. And he knew Allen was sweet; Allen wasn’t going to hurt him, it was _just acting,_ but his (seemingly) furious snarl of “You asked for this, you fucking _whore,_ ” suddenly sounded too real.

 

Unbidden, his mind went to Singer; he thought of Singer kissing him, of accusing him of sleeping with Joe, Ben and Gwil. He thought of his continuous insults; he thought of that light stand sailing for his head, missing him by inches.

 

He thought of having to do this in front of Singer and wanted to _die._ He was suddenly bone-deep certain that if Singer hadn’t been fired, if he was still here, he’d keep Rami naked for as long as possible. He wouldn’t have put any safety precautions in place, he’d have left Rami panicking on the floor.

 

It all felt too _real,_ regardless of the cameras. The cameras even seemed to make it _worse,_ it felt like he was actually being assaulted and people were just _watching_ and _filming,_ and even _that_ was too real. Because people did that, didn’t they? How many rape videos had been uploaded online? How many people filmed vicious attacks as blackmail, to keep their victims quiet?

 

They weren’t filming the whole rape; it was meant to cut off just as Allen...Well, as soon as he pretended to force his way in; Rami was meant to scream and it would cut ahead to the end. Therefore, they’d made the struggle beforehand more dramatic. There was a lot more slapping and attempts to run- it even made it seem like Rami was going to get away. He was to run for the door, to nearly reach it, only for Allen to grab him by the hair and drag him back, hand over Rami’s mouth to keep him quiet.

 

He thought of Freddie, who’d been nothing but sweet and gentle and he wanted to sit down and cry. It wasn’t _fair._ How could Prenter possibly think Freddie had _wanted_ that?

 

 _The same way Singer thought you wanted him,_ part of him said and somehow, that did it, that broke his fragile calm.

 

Sobbing for real, suddenly unable to breathe, he bashed his bound hands against the hardwood floor three times as hard and loud as he could.

 

Just like that, it all stopped. He was untied, one of the PAs was wrapping a blanket around him and Allen was frantically apologising and asking if he was okay, but Rami couldn’t even open his eyes; all he could do was sob and gasp for breath. All he could think was, _This isn’t fair._

  
  
  
  


By the time they reached Rami’s bedroom he was fully dressed again, albeit in a pair of faded joggers and a too-large T-shirt. He was still sobbing and wrapped in a blanket; his castmates surrounded him on all sides, all of them trying to soothe him, but Freddie took one look and knew what was wrong.

 

Too many people. Too many Alphas. Too many Betas, not nearly enough Omegas. Too many people who were bigger than him. Too much noise.

 

He strode over, kneeling with some difficulty in front of Rami, cupping his cheek in his hand.

 

“Rami? Darling? It’s Freddie, can you open your eyes for me, love?”

 

Just like that, Rami’s eyes snapped open. The poor thing looked utterly petrified; with a strangled sob he flung himself into Freddie’s arms.

 

“We- we can’t get him to calm down,” Gwil said helplessly; poor Joe looked seconds away from crying.

 

And Freddie did what he’d always done for his own children; he held Rami close, letting the younger Omega rest his head on Freddie’s chest, lightly running a hand through Rami’s hair (well, his wig) again and again.

 

“Is it a bit too loud in here, darling?” he asked quietly. Still gasping for breath, his nails digging into Freddie’s arms, Rami nodded.

 

Sighing, Freddie said; “Alright. Look, darlings, I’m sorry, but there’s simply too many of you in here. I’ll handle this; if we need anything I’ll call you back.”

 

“But-!” Joe started to protest, but cut himself off at Freddie’s stern look. He wilted, almost flopping against Ben. No one looked happy, but when Freddie added “It’s Omega time, all of you get out. _Please,_ ” they complied.

 

As soon as the door closed and it was just the two of them, Rami relaxed. Not by much, not nearly enough, but at least it was something. After a moment’s struggle, Freddie managed to push himself up so he was sitting on the bed, not letting go of Rami once.

 

“It’s okay, love,” he soothed. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Rami sobbed, but Freddie just held him tighter, whispering “Shh” again and again, running through his old breathing exercises with Rami...And they seemed to do the trick. Soon enough, Rami was breathing normally again. He still sounded raspy from all the sobbing and he winced when he swallowed, but at least he wasn’t panicking anymore.

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated weakly.

 

“Whatever for? Darling, it’s...It’s difficult. No one can blame you for being upset.”

 

“ _No,_ I- I’m sorry that _happened,_ ” Rami said, peering up at him- and it clicked.

 

“Sweetheart, I…” Freddie struggled for a moment. He sighed. “ _You_ of all people have no reason to be sorry. You weren’t even _born_ yet. The only person who should be sorry is long dead.”

 

“Good riddance,” Rami muttered bitterly, and Freddie smiled, one hand still tangled in Rami’s hair.

 

“Channeling Roger now, are we?” he teased.

 

“Only when Roger’s right,” Rami said with a weak smile.

 

“Hm, not often then.”

 

Finally, Rami laughed; it was shaky and quiet, but it was worlds away from his previous panic and it made Freddie’s smile widen. 

 

“So...Omega time?” Rami asked, resting against Freddie’s chest again. “What’s that mean?”

 

“Oh, that’s what Phoebe always calls it,” Freddie laughed. “The first time our heats synced up we both felt dreadfully unwell. He’d stayed the night and we both woke up just...Feeling awful really. Poor Phoebe was crying at everything, his ankles swelled up, he could barely _stand._ All I could keep down was water, seeing Phoebe cry made _me_ cry...So I suggested we both go and have a lie-down, or take a nap. The thing was, neither of us wanted to be alone.”

 

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” Rami said. His grip on Freddie’s arms didn’t hurt anymore.

 

“Hm, physical contact does help,” Freddie said; and it _did,_ it was scientifically proven and everything. Well, there were certainly worse things to need than a cuddle. “So we both went to my room.” He smiled fondly as he remembered; “The cats followed. We just...Talked, really. About anything that came to mind. And Phoebe decided to call it ‘Omega time.’ No Alphas or Betas allowed.”

 

_Freddie’s head was throbbing and he still felt dreadfully nauseous, but he couldn’t help but laugh as Phoebe told him about his co-workers’ antics._

 

_“I swear, he really thought no one would notice the jacket was ruined!”_

 

 _“He spilled_ coffee _all over it and thought no one would notice?” Freddie clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter._

 

_“I’m serious,” Phoebe insisted, grinning. He took Freddie’s hand, smile widening when Freddie leaned into him. “He thought he was so sneaky.”_

 

_“Silly fool.”_

 

“You let Joe and John stay when I panicked last time,” Rami pointed out.

 

“Well, you weren’t panicking so hard last time. And besides, sometimes it just...Helps to have another Omega around,” Freddie said. “And not just during heats.”

 

“Yeah,” Rami agreed. “Because…”

 

“They get it,” they said together. Rami’s eyes brightened; Freddie finally pulled away to reach for the tissues.

 

“Feeling okay?” he asked as Rami mopped at his face.

 

“Better,” Rami said. “I just- oh, I don’t know. I hate it. I don’t see how I’m going to manage this, you know?”

 

“Because you’re braver than you think you are,” Freddie said simply.

 

Rami’s smile was much more genuine, maybe even a little relieved. He hugged Freddie tightly, finally totally relaxed as he asked, “Can we just stay here for a while?”

 

Freddie returned the hug, admittedly feeling more relaxed himself.

 

“Take as long as you need, darling.”

  
  
  
  


Later, Dexter peered at Rami worriedly.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I know it’s pretty heavy stuff. Were there too many people? If it’s the scene itself we can probably tweak it a little-”

 

“I’m fine,” Rami cut in. He glanced back at Freddie; the older Omega mouthed _‘It’s okay.’_ Taking a deep breath, Rami said, “I want to try again.”

 

“Right now?” Dexter asked. “You sure? We can do some other scenes.”

 

“I’m sure,” Rami said. “And, um...Freddie said he’d look after me, so…”

 

Everyone turned sharply to Freddie.

 

“You _what!?_ ” Roger cried.

 

“Freddie, you don’t have to,” Jim protested. Theo looked sick.

 

But Freddie, who was easily the smallest man in the room, suddenly seemed to tower over them all. He exuded that natural grace Rami had noticed (and envied) before; head held high, he walked over and took Rami’s hand.

 

“That’s right,” he said loftily. He looked around at them all warningly and raised an eyebrow at Dexter. “Is that a problem, darling?”

 

“No, no, I just…” Dexter blinked rapidly, shaking his head as though to clear it. “I...You’re sure?”

 

Freddie rolled his eyes. “God, if I had a pound for every time someone asked me that question,” he said. He squeezed Rami’s hand tighter. “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t offer, now would I?”

 

Dexter appeared totally baffled; Roger came over and muttered furiously in Freddie’s ear. Jim implored him, John badgered him; Theo nagged, and Brian fretted like a mother-hen.

 

Ben, Gwil and Joe, although clearly shocked, also looked relieved.

 

“For goodness’ sake!” Freddie eventually barked. “ _I’m sure,_ now can we just get this over with instead of dragging it out!?”

 

“You’d better tell me if you get anxious,” Jim said firmly. “If you get _any_ flashbacks, just- just _tell_ me, honey, _please._ ”

 

“I will,” Freddie promised.

 

As they set up again, Rami glanced at him worriedly.

 

“You know you can change your mind,” he said, half-hoping Freddie would, half-hoping he wouldn’t.

 

“I know I can,” Freddie said with a gentle smile. He poked Rami on the nose; his smile widened when Rami giggled. “I know I can,” he repeated. “But I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan that ending, but it felt right.


	26. (DV) Theo: Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and some of the Prenters come face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the last of the movie snippets! Although this one doesn't really cover the movie it covers the aftermath- specifically, if covers some of Theo's aftermath. 
> 
> So here we go; in which Theo meets Paul Prenter's sister...

**January 2nd, 2019** **  
** **_“So many bright lights that cast a shadow, but can I speak? Well, is it hard understanding I'm incomplete? A life that's so demanding, I get so weak. A love that's so demanding, I can't speak. I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey, if you stay I'll be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.” -Famous Last Words,_ ** **My Chemical Romance**

 

Well, it was pretty much what Theo expected; an utter shitshow. Some people accused them of lying; they simply didn’t want to believe the truth and eventually Theo and his family simply ignored such comments as best they could; an interviewer accused Brian of lying and he walked out of the interview there and then.

 

Theo’s bandmates were sympathetic at least.

 

“Shit, Theo, I wish you told us,” their lead singer, Max said. “It’s shit having to keep that quiet.”

 

“It was safer,” Theo said, and it wasn’t like anyone could argue.

 

As for the people who believed them…

 

There were, of course, people who said Freddie should have told the truth years ago; they felt betrayed, they felt lied to, they accused him of not wanting to help or support his fellow victims.

 

“I’ve always said that my private business is just that,” Freddie said frostily.  _ “Private.” _

 

Thank God, the majority of  _ Queen  _ fans were on Freddie’s side; one reporter calmly pointed out (in a rather lengthy article) that the rampant Omega discrimination in the 70s would have ensured the public wasn’t on Freddie’s side.

 

_ At the time, the press tried to catch Mercury out on any little thing they could. Any little mistake he made was blown out of proportion; everything he did was under scrutiny. Things were hard enough in the 80s, but in the 70s? Mercury would have been eaten alive. I would like to think that nowadays we are better than that, and can lend our favourite frontman our support,  _ he wrote. Theo was tempted to send the man a gift basket. Daphne actually  _ did.  _

 

Theo had to hand it to his wife, she didn’t do things by halves. 

 

But the biggest problem for Theo, was Prenter’s family; now that they knew who he was, they suddenly seemed to think they should be involved in his life. In his  _ children’s  _ lives. That wasn’t going to fucking fly, not on Theo’s watch.

 

He wasn’t sure  _ how  _ they got ahold of his number, but he soon blocked them all; however, he couldn’t stop them from writing to him. He could only return their letters. Prenter’s two brothers, Ross and Neil, seemed to slowly be getting the message. Their letters became more and more infrequent. Once he blocked them on all social media that seemed to finally drive the message home.

 

His final email to Neil felt rather therapeutic.

 

_ You have no fucking clue what your brother was capable of,  _ he wrote.  _ As far as I’m concerned he’s not my father; Roger is, Jim is. Paul Prenter means less than nothing to me. Leave me and my family alone, we want nothing to do with you. You are nothing to do with us, understand? _

 

But Prenter’s sister, Margaret? She was insistent. 

 

_ We’re your family,  _ she wrote on his band’s twitter page.  _ You belong with us. _

 

Even after she’d been blocked on everything, she didn’t get the hint. She didn’t just harass him, she harassed his bandmates, Maeve,  _ Queen,  _ Daphne, Farkhondeh, Kae; hell, she even got ahold of Miami at one point.

 

But one by one, everyone blocked her. Theo always sent her letters back without bothering to open them, or he just threw them straight in the bin. On one memorable occasion he burned them, which Daphne seemed to find hilarious. 

 

Maybe he should have expected things to escalate. 

 

They were getting ready for Ben’s birthday; sweet guy that he was, he’d invited everyone, not just his cast mates but  _ everyone.  _ Theo wasn’t about to turn it down, he liked Ben and the other “BoRhap boys” as the media had taken to calling them; it’d be nice to see how they were all getting on, God knew people had been pissed at them for keeping the truth quiet too.

 

And then the bell at the front-gate rang.

 

“We expecting anyone?” Daphne asked, fiddling with her earrings.

 

“No,” Theo said. “Papa and Dad are meeting us there.”

 

He hurried downstairs; the security cameras were linked up to a little screen by the front door. It took him a moment to recognise the woman on screen, standing impatiently at his front-gate.

 

She was quite tall, in her sixties if he had to take a guess; a younger man was with her who strongly resembled her. Even on the somewhat fuzzy footage, Theo could make out her dark blue eyes.

 

And it clicked; Margaret Prenter- or whatever the fuck her married name was, he’d never bothered to check. But back to the main problem, what the  _ fuck  _ was she doing  _ here? _

 

_ Who the fuck do you think you are?  _ Theo thought, suddenly seething. His chest actually  _ hurt,  _ he was so angry. Did she seriously think she could just show up at his house? At his  _ home,  _ where his wife was, where his  _ kids  _ were? No. Fuck this. This was the last straw. 

 

“Dad?” Kae leaned over the bannister, his cherry-black hair flopping into his eyes, his big brown eyes that looked exactly like Freddie’s. “Dad, what’s up? You’re shaking.”

 

“Tell your mum to grab her phone,” Theo said through gritted teeth. “And meet me at the gate. And  _ you  _ stay inside.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We’ve got a pest problem,” Theo said rolling his eyes and marching to the front door. The bell rang again. “Now go get your mum.”

 

Margaret had the nerve to smile at the sight of him.

 

“Theo,” she said pleasantly, like they spoke every day. “There you are. Please, I just-”

 

“Fuck off,” Theo snarled. Their scents reached him through the gate; they were both Alphas, though that didn’t surprise him. At least the younger man had the sense to look embarrassed. Theo rounded on him; “Who the fuck are you?”

 

Before the man could speak, Margaret did instead; “This is my son, Lawrence. Your cousin.”

 

“Hm, sorry,” Theo said slowly. “I’ve got enough cousins.”

 

“Theo, please,” Margaret said, somewhat impatiently. “This is getting ridiculous. I know what that Omega’s told you about your father, but he was a good man. You deserve to know where you came from. You deserve to know your family, he had no right to keep you from us!”

 

“Sweetheart?” Daphne was running down the garden path, her skirt hitched up, her high heels in one hand and her phone in the other. Her ash-blonde hair was falling out of its plait. “What’s wrong? Who’s this?”

 

“Ma, we should go,” Lawrence muttered. “I told you this was daft.”

 

“Oh look, a Prenter with sense,” Theo scoffed and Daphne gasped.

 

“Prenter?” she repeated. Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Oh blow me, not this  _ again?  _ How many times do we have to threaten to get the police involved?”

 

“Now, Daphne, dear-”

 

“It’s Mrs Mercury to you,” Daphne snapped. “Now get off my property before I call the police.”

 

“We’re family,” Margaret said stubbornly, and Theo finally let go and burst out laughing.

 

“ _ Family!?  _ No, we’re strangers.”

 

“And who’s fault is that!?” Margaret held onto one of the gate’s bars, frowning up at Theo. “That Omega  _ lied  _ to you. Paul was a good man, he would never force himself on anyone. I visited your father in jail whenever I could; when he got released I paid for his flight home. He was in love with Freddie and that blasted Omega led him on for years! When Roger caught them, Freddie had Paul arrested! You have no idea...His life was  _ ruined. _ ”

 

“Good,” Theo said coldly. “He tried to ruin my Papa’s life. I read the files on the case you know. I found a load of articles and God knows it’s on the internet now. You’ve no fucking excuse except your own ignorance. Paul Prenter  _ raped  _ my papa.” He could feel his hands shaking; Daphne edged closer. “The doctors that examined him testified, everyone who was there that night testified. You call making someone bleed  _ love?  _ Beating them black and blue, biting them, tying them up, gagging them, and giving them a concussion isn’t fucking romantic! It’s  _ sick.  _ Your precious brother was a sick, depraved man; he was obsessed and entitled and he got  _ less  _ than what he deserved.”

 

“Theo-”

 

“If I ever met him,” Theo continued loudly, drowning her voice out. “I’d have killed him. You got that? I’d have gutted him! The thought of letting someone like him anywhere near my kids makes me sick- and the same applies to you. We’re  _ not  _ family, you’ve just been harassing me and defaming my papa since that movie came out.”

 

Lawrence gulped. “We’ll go now,” he said hastily. “Ma, come on.”

 

“No,” Margaret snapped. “Theo, that’s all  _ lies,  _ Freddie  _ lied  _ to you.”

 

“And I suppose the doctors and other witnesses did too?” Theo scoffed. “I suppose the photos the doctors took were forged?” He shook his head. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, but this is your last warning;  _ leave me alone.  _ Leave my family alone. Leave my friends alone. If you write one more letter or show your face here again, I’ll go to the police. I’ll have you done up for harassment and stalking.”

 

“You wouldn’t,” Margaret said, shaking her head. She looked paler, shaken. “I’m your aunt,” she added. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“My aunts are Kashmira Cooke, Saoirse Breen, Lauren McCraw, Millie Adams, Roisin Hutton, Aishling Dunne and Ciara Lester,” Theo said, head held high. “And let me tell you, they’re all much better women than you. I have a family, a pretty damn  _ big  _ one might I add, and you’re not part of it. Now like my wife said... _ Get off my property or I’m calling the police. _ ”

 

“We understand,” Lawrence said; he was as tall as Theo, around the same age and he looked positively petrified. Well, Theo knew what he looked like in a temper, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. Sometimes it had its perks.

 

“But-!”

 

“ _ No,  _ Ma,” Lawrence snapped. “I’m not getting arrested over this, I told you this was daft.”

 

Margaret glared at her son; she looked at Theo almost pityingly. “One day you’ll realise the truth,” she said. Her lower-lip trembled. “Your father was a good man, Theo. One day you’ll realise and when you do, we’ll be there to welcome you with open arms.”

 

“Dialling 999,” Daphne said, raising her phone; thank God, Lawrence grabbed Margaret’s hand and dragged her to a nearby car. Within moments they were gone.

 

“...That was a shitshow,” Theo said. He ran a hand through his long hair; he was angry and fed-up, but right now he mostly felt bewildered. How could you lie to yourself like that? Did the entire Prenter family believe Paul was innocent? “She’s- she’s really convinced Prenter was innocent.”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t like to admit it if Maeve commited a crime,” Daphne pointed out.

 

“I wouldn’t like it,” Theo agreed. “But I’d face up to it.”

 

“Hey!” Kae was leaning out of his bedroom window, Farkhondeh right beside him. “Can we go now, or what!?”

 

That was when Theo remembered he was still in his bare feet; giggling, Daphne slipped her shoes on, patting at her hair.

 

“How bad is it?” she asked.

 

“Bad,” Theo admitted; she cursed and hurried back inside. Theo followed more leisurely, glancing over his shoulder; he couldn’t see any sign of the car. With any luck they really had left.

 

And with any luck they wouldn’t come back.

 

Paul Prenter hadn’t been a good person; Theo had been conceived through rape and it had taken him years to face up to that fact. If Margaret Prenter couldn’t do the same, that was her problem. Theo didn’t want anything to do with them; he had his family. He had his wife and kids, he had his parents, his uncles and aunts; he had his sister and sister-in-law, he had his cousins, he had his nephew and he had his band.

 

And, funnily enough, and to his own surprise, the BoRhap boys had been added to the ranks.

 

Theo had spent long enough brooding about Paul Prenter and Ridge Farm. He’d spent long enough convinced that  _ he  _ was a bad person by association. 

 

He was done with that. He was determined to be done with that.

 

Theo had better things to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie snippets are complete! I warned you there'd only been two or three Darkness 'verse ones, and I actually meant it this time 😆
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Fingers crossed I can fit more Theo content in the series at some point, I love this angst king 💕

**Author's Note:**

> All aboard the "Protect Rami Malek" train.


End file.
